Messaging the Undead
by innerurge1
Summary: It's been a year since House's death and Cameron has seen better days. She spends her lonely nights drinking and surfing Facebook. House's profile is still activated and too often she 'talks' to her dead mentor via the site's messaging feature. It quickly becomes a tool to vent life's frustrations. Afterall, it's safe to say just about anything to a dead man.
1. Preface

Messaging the Undead

 **Preface:**

Hello, everyone. This story starts around a year after House's 'death' and sometime after Wilson has died. If the dates seem off, it's because House's prison sentence was around a year, so I went with the assumption that the first seven seasons of House happened more or less around the time of being aired, so the prison year would then shift the last season to occurring one year after the air time. So 2012, would have actually been 2013 in the show's timeline.

This story is set in the spring of 2014 through January 2016.

At the start of the story, Cameron is in Chicago, still head of the ER department at her hospital. Her life outside of work is less than stellar. During her low points (which are often than not) she finds herself drinking too much and surfing Facebook. She keeps viewing House's profile, frustrated no one takes it down one minute and happy to have the connection to him the next.

At some point, she decides to strike up a message with him and it becomes her new way of venting her life's ups and downs and her drunken sexual frustration. And so begins our tale.

You will find the first few chapters to be a selection from these messages. Because Cameron is writing them, for the most part, late at night and less than sober, they are formatted with rough grammar, typos and missing punctuation. Some of her thoughts ramble and are convoluted. I want them to read like a normal person in that situation would type them. Bear that in mind as you read and think "What the fuck, innerurge1? Have you forgotten how to write complete sentences and did atavares forget how to spell and punctuate too?!"

We didn't have a stroke, it's just formatted that way for the sake of realism. Also, a note for my international audience: the timestamps from the facebook messages are in US format (MM/DD/YYYY) because we are in Cameron's POV and she's in the US. Thanks again to my beta for pointing out that it creates confusion.

Be warned, this is not the Cameron we are used to. If I did this right, she should seem a little out of character and hopeful you'll lecture the screen a few times as you read. If you'll humor the idea that she's in a more House-like place mentally, I think you will enjoy the drama of her poor decision making, kinda in the same way one finds themselves enjoying Walter White in _Breaking Bad_. That's about as descriptive of a disclaimer as I can give you without spoiling the plot.

This is a Hameron story and it's by me and it's rated M for some really great reasons, so if you don't like any of those things, best to back on out now. :P

Thank you for giving it a shot and I hope you'll leave me a note in the reviews from time to time.

And finally, one huge Hugh thanks to atavares for going all in on yet another novel. It's not even close to the length of the last two, but it's nothing to sneeze at I think. I can't believe we've been doing these things for almost two years now. Kinda crazy. Thanks and love to you, my friend.

— innerurge1


	2. Facebook Message: 5-10-2014 1:38AM

**5/10/2014 1:38AM**

 _I don't know why I keep coming back here. Sometimes I wish your mother or Dominika would claim your account and take it down or something. It's fucking depressing to see you on my friend list still, a year after you fucked everything up._

 _Then again, here I am writing to you as if you will read this. Unable to just de-friend you, as if you are still here. Today is one of those days I think you are right about me. I'm pathetic. I'll just blame it on my buzz later. That always seemed to work for you._

 _My second divorce came through today. Looks like I've tied Wilson for failed marriages now. Though to be fair, number one died. But also, to be fair, I went in eyes open to the fact there was never to be any 'success' with Jack._

 _I think, really, I just wanted something I couldn't control. As much as you think I need to fix things, I think really, I just am drawn broken things that I can't fix. Maybe I get off on pain. Fucking seems like it sometimes._

 _Ray, husband three, father of my son Greg (no, I am not that obsessed. I actually fought Ray on that, but it was his father's name and his father had just died, so I lost the battle), was a great guy. But, I guess that just doesn't work for me. Chase was a great guy, and look where that landed._

 _I don't know why I blamed you for that. Maybe, for once, I just wanted the easy way out. I never take the easy way. When I try to it blows up in my face, so I've learn, like the old song goes, to do it the hard way._

 _Anyway, Ray was supposed to be a fling. A good and wholesome rebound boyfriend. A guy you fuck to learn how to live again. A transition. But, as luck would have it. Or rather, stupidity, we had a night of drunken, unprotected sex and nine months later, we had Little Greg. (yeah yeah, I know that's what you call your penis, can't help that. Ray's mom started that one.) I would have been on the pill, but I started having a hormone imbalance, so long story short, things got messy._

 _God, I wish you had been around, or that I would have had the guts to call you and ask your advice. I wanted to. But, I just couldn't after how I left. You would have told me not to make two mistakes from one. Hell, you would have probably told me to just get an abortion and move on. I guess, maybe, that's the part I really didn't want to hear. I did the stupid thing, the bad afterschool special thing, I got married to the father._

 _That worked for about two years. Everyone around us was thrilled. My parents, his. But after you did your stupid thing. Well, I changed. Ray couldn't handle the change. So now it's just me. Ray was the one who was able to be at home and have a regular schedule, so the court awarded him custody. At least, Ray lets me have Little Greg on my days off. Ray was nice that way, but I can't even have what I want, which is a clean break. I can't just leave my son._

 _I miss the hell out of you, you know. I'm really a fool. What is it about you? Why the fuck can't I get over this thing I have for you? Even now. After everything. After you lost it and drove a car through Lisa's living room. She lives up here now, in Chicago. She called me for a reference, and I got her an interview via an old mentor of mine who was retiring from Mercy. You probably knew that._

 _We get together once a month or so. Have drinks, talk about you. She's fucking mind-fucked by you too. Jesus, House, you seriously drove a fucking car into her house! You are crazy, but that is way beyond crazy. Even for you._

 _However, I think, at least, it let her get the fuck over loving you. Now she just hates you._

 _Part of me gets it though. She told me about why she broke up with you. I had to drink my drink and nod politely. I still don't get it. You finally showed up. What did she expect? You're a fucking addict with abandonment issues. She could have helped you. If she really loved you she would have helped you, not dumped you._

 _I wouldn't have dumped you._

 _Fuck. As if you'd give me the opportunity to have you to dump you. Jesus. I still wish I knew why I couldn't get a guy who would pay for sex, who admits he thinks I'm sexy, to just fuck me. I get it if you didn't want to date me, but by the end of my fellowship, I would have settled for a good hard pounding over your desk. Just once. Satisfy the curiosity and all that._

 _Of course, Lisa made sure to let me know that you were a stud in bed. She can be thick sometimes. It's not like she doesn't know that I had it bad for you. Of course, she thinks I'm well over you, but you (if you were still around) and I know, I'm not._

 _You were the one. The one that got away. The one I love, but can't ever have. The one who wouldn't touch me, but still managed to ruin me for all other men._

 _God bless, get over yourself Allison! You're begging a dead man to fuck you. Again, pathetic._

 _Then again, Foreman has this theory. He thinks you pulled a fast one. That you found a way to run away with Wilson and live out his final time together. God, I really hope that you and he were really gay sometimes. It would explain so much, and make me feel like I am not a total loser._

 _I couldn't go to his funeral. Too much breaking down in my own life at the time. Lisa said it was a nice ceremony. She said she spoke to your mother. Said she was taking your death in stride. Something about that, now that I am a mother, strikes me as odd too. But I wasn't there, so who knows._

 _Anyway, I just needed to vent. I miss our talks. I miss how we were after I left your team and used to just hang out late in your office and chat. Those times you didn't grill me about Robert. That one time we watched the monster truck ralley on your old ass TV and you looked at me for just a second like you wished something different had happened after our non-date. You didn't think I saw it. But I always did. That look, and the many times you gave it to me, when you thought I wasn't looking, is maybe the reason I can't just get past this._

 _I want to get past this. I need to._

 _Hell, maybe this stupid letter will help. Time will tell I guess._


	3. Facebook Message: 8-10-2014 11:29PM

**A/N: A** **note for my international audience: the timestamps from the facebook messages are in US format (MM/DD/YYYY) because we are in Cameron's POV and she's in the US. Thanks again to my beta for pointing out that this format creates some confusion.**

* * *

 **8/10/2014 11:29PM**

 _Back again! I see you still haven't responded to any of my messages. Big fucking surprise there. Dead or alive I never could get you to respond to me. Well, there was the time you kissed back, but you probably did that to distract me. Looking back, I am sure I never really had the upper hand with you._

 _God, your fucking hands. Long fingers. I wanted so much to fuck those long beautiful fingers. Feel them inside me. Let you play me like you might your piano. I never really got to hear you play it. I heard you once or twice in the chapel. Heard you practicing your guitar when you didn't even know I was still at the hospital._

 _Damn it took a lot of restraint to make you come to me._

 _God, I wish you would come inside me. I wish my Greg was yours. It would make it feel just a little less frustrating to have him, simply by name alone, constantly remind me of you. God, I hate Ray for making me name him Greg._

 _Yeah, I know, who the hell calls you Greg? Besides Stacy. Once in a blue moon Wilson. Problem is, I never screamed your surname late at night, alone in my bed. I made myself come with Greg on my lips._

 _Pathetic._

 _You're right._

 _I'd imagine how good your mouth would feel between my legs. That mean, nasty mouth, doing mean and nasty things to my clit, my vagina, my anus. Yeah, I totally wanted you to lick my asshole. I wanted you to lick every inch of me. I wanted to come on your nasty mouth, then lick it off, and make you come for me in mine._

 _Did you imagine that a teddy bear made by Grandma could be so dirty? I hope you did. I hope that at least once you spray your own hand with my name on your lips. Maybe once hired a whore who looked just a little too much like me and asked her if she would be Allison for the night._

 _Fuck, I'm too drunk to be near a computer. I need to curb this shit, but then again, I learned from you, so fuck moderation. Ray has Little Greg, so why be sober? I don't have either Greg to save me from myself._

 _I just I'll just go get my dildo now and fuck myself again, and wish it was you. Night House. Thanks again for being such a goddamned hot mess._


	4. Facebook Message: 1-24-2015 1:38AM

**A/N: A note for my international audience - the timestamps from the Facebook messages are in US format (MM/DD/YYYY) because we are in Cameron's POV and she's in the US.**

* * *

 **1/24/2015 1:38AM**

 _I saw Chase tonight. He's in Chicago for a conference. We toasted you a few times, before we got toasted and fucked._

 _Jesus, I am just a fucking winner aren't I? At least I made him wear a condom this time. Lesson learned there. Oh, and by the way, he thinks it's fucking hysterical that I was forced to name my son Greg._

 _Personally, I think he thinks it serves me right. It probably does. Some days, I just think I should have stuck with Chase. The sex is good. He and I get along well. I do love him, even if I'm not all emo in love with him like I am with some other doctor I used to work with._

 _But that ship sailed. He's once bitten twice shy. But there is something about the sex._

 _Of course, half the time I think about fucking you instead. Not all the time. That would be just wrong, but when the lights are dimmed, and he's down between my legs with his now short hair, and his 3 days worth of stubble, it's not hard to imagine it's you down there._

 _You kissed great. I imagine your tongue knows it's way around a clit._

 _Goddamn. I'm doing it again. It's like I am having a sex chat affair with a dead man._

 _Oh, yeah. The dead thing. So did you leave your ID in Foreman's office, or is he full of shit? Chase thinks you've pulled a fast one too. I have to admit that little thing with Wilson getting strange texts at your funeral seems fishier and fishier. I don't know if which I'd be more of at this point if you are alive, happy or mortified._

 _The idea you might ever read this shit is kind of disconcerting to say the least. I almost deleted our message history tonight, but I just couldn't do it. So here I am writing you again. Telling you my dark desires._

 _I had this dream last week. You had read my letters so you broke into my condo while I was asleep. You got naked and crawled into bed with me. You didn't do anything creepy really. Lol, Why is it that I don't think you breaking in and getting into my bed naked without my permission is creepy? I guess if I am honest with myself, you have always had my permission._

 _Anyway. You just wrapped yourself around me and I woke up with you there. I didn't freak out. I knew it was you. I rolled over and you were gone. Then I woke up for real. I didn't even get to have hot fantasy dream sex with you. You can't even give me that?_

 _Per usual, I just took matters into my own hands._

 _Work has been good, at least. Our Dean of Medicine is buddies with Lisa now. And they all got buddy buddy with Chase at the conference. Get your mind out of the gutter, it was not an orgy. Anyway, he's been doing well with your old job. So he and Lisa get Anderson convinced that we need a department of diagnostic medicine. So, yeah, you can guess the next bit._

 _I plan on basing all my hiring decisions on criminal history and ass quality, just like you taught me. You can try to pretend that Chase's dad got him the job, but let's be real. You are a little gay, and Chase does give me a run in the lobby art department. :P_


	5. Facebook Message: 11-12-2015 3:09AM

**11/12/2015 3:09AM**

 _Gah, I can't sleep._

 _Again_

 _3:10 in the fucking AM, and I have to be up at 8:45. Yeah, seems late, but the perks of being the head of a dept that is not the fucking ER._

 _Oh, and you seriously never believe this… Are you ready? IT WAS LUPUS. No joke. I laughed so hard when the results came it, my team thought I'd been hitting the sayce early._

 _Mostly I laughed because of how I dismissed it, as you would, in my last message to you. It still helps to talk out the cases with you, even post mortem._

 _It's fucking cold here. Winter isn't coming, it's fucking here. I've turn up the heat, but if I ever do fall asleep, I'll end up too hot and then be a real cunt to my team in the morning._

 _Yes, grandmom's teddy bear just used the word cunt. It's 3:14. I can't sleep. Whatda expect? Snow White? Then again, over a year's worth of begging via facebook for a dead mans cock I bet you;; beleive anythign._

 _I don't even know why I'm on here rambling again. I should just try rubbing one down instead. That'd prob help. Your hard cock inside me would help. You'd think I'd leanr after all this time that's never gonna happen_

 _Still I picture it rubbing against my clit, then slipping inot my vagnia._

 _I know you're big_

 _I think you forced me intothe men's so often just so I'd get a glimps here and there. If it's that big soft, and it totally looks like a grower and not a shower. Fuck. I'd like to have it inside me now._

 _Suck it_

 _fuck it_

 _Do all kinds of nasty things to it._

 _I bet you were good at oral. You have the best tongue. You were a good kisser too. And the beard. I want it grazing my thighs. I totally want beard burn on my pussy right now. Jesus, I need to just close the lid and sleep._

 _I really don't ever want your mom or your wife to actually claim this account. Fuck, it'd be embarrassing. But am I going to hit backspace instead of send? Nope._


	6. Dead Men Don't Check Their Facebook

**Dead Men Don't Check Their Facebook**

Allison Cameron came home from the hospital after another grueling shift. The only upside being they saved the patient. One of her team nearly got arrested for breaking and entering; she found out the wife of the patient might sue for damages, all in all, another life saved, House style. So fuck the law. It only serves to get in the way.

Her boss, Ron Anderson, began having weekly meltdowns thanks to her methods — well, House's methods. Every argument with her boss was won with a little snark, an innuendo here and there, and a reminder that he wasn't led blindly. He was told plainly how her department would work. He was so sure he wanted a team like the one perfected by the great Gregory House. He had no clue what that truly meant in terms of legal overhead, despite Lisa Cuddy's detailed accounts. Nothing Cameron's team did conformed in any way, shape, or form to any regulations the law required of normal medical practitioners. They relied on the results (and great lawyers) to save them from a hospital destroying lawsuit.

Of course, the upside was the rock-star press that goes hand in hand with tackling the big cases. Press which, in turn, brought in the massive cash donations from rich people needing places to funnel their funds. She was long over believe any of them had real philanthropic interest. She wasn't that Allison Cameron anymore. House's death had left a vortex in her universe. Thrown her off balance. Removed the Yin from her Yang. So, she let her own dark side fill the void.

On some level, she supposed, she always understood her mentor better than most. He was compelled to do wrong to accomplish the right. A vigilante of medicine. She once found it charming.

Then sad.

Then infuriating.

Then — for a little while anyway — just wrong.

Now she more than understood it. She felt like her fate was to live as he lived — damaged, miserable, and alone. All healthy life-focus aimed at the solving of puzzles, which in turn, saves lives. Despite it all, she would never be convinced, even in her deeply jaded state of mind, that he had only cared about the puzzles.

Heading straight to the kitchen, she pulled a Cab from the wine rack and popped the cork with the hands of a master. She still bothered with a glass. She wasn't a wino yet, but not in any state of denial of her drinking problem. The ability to care was gone. If her son wasn't with her, she would be found with a glass of wine nearby.

 _'It is what it is.'_ She conceded to herself.

No chunk of muscle missing from her leg but her heart sure as hell felt like it was missing a large section.

She was sure she saw House today. Out of the corner of her eye. The limp, the stance, the burn of his eyes on the back of her head. She turned to find nothing. He wasn't there. She wondered if she might be losing her mind like he did when he had started seeing Amber.

 _'Maybe I need a few months in rehab at the funny farm to get my life back together.'_ With a snort, she shakes her head at the thought. ' _That's a joke. What life?'_

Not long into the night, the bottle yielded no more. She gave it a look as if its refusal to fill the glass once more was a sign it was pure evil and with one last swig of dark red liquid from her glass, she finished the last of the Cab and decided Merlot sounded perfectly acceptable next. She had a snack around 5:00 at work, but later, alone in the confines of her apartment, a liquid dinner seemed the best idea.

A loud pop echoed in the room and, a moment later, more dark liquid filled her glass. It was at this point that checking out Facebook seemed like a great thing to do.

Pictures and videos of cats and dogs ran in her feed. Mixed in were pictures of friends and acquaintances from her past, their kids and families. Happy couples, pissed off people who needed to air all their private trash to the masses, pet parents posting the latest antics, political memes, all vying for five seconds of your attention before you scroll on to the next random life event for some person you don't really know anymore. Social media at its finest.

After two more glasses, she opened the messages page and began writing another letter to House. She couldn't stop at that point. It had become an obsession — talking to him this way. Having someone to share her darkest thoughts and secrets with. A non-judging ear. (Yes, she completely got the irony.) And sometimes, it simply provided a way to make getting herself off, just a little more exciting than masturbation alone, without being so torrid as hitting a sex chat room to let a stranger tell her how big his cock is and how now he _\- rams it up your tight little ass and you're so slutty you love it, then beg to lick my dirty cock clean._

Not that she was above being a random perv's digital slut. Sometimes she did feel like being that dirty and self-abasing, but not this night. It was one of those nights. She needed a release after a week of the case from hell. She needed the release to be with him.

Just as she opened the chat window, she saw something that made her stomach lunge to her throat. '✓ Seen Sun 2:45 A.M.' in light gray, just after her messages.

"What the hell?" she asked herself, and looked around the room for a second as if someone had seen her moment of mortified embarrassment.

Scrolling through the currently online contacts didn't yield his name and image, so whomever it was that logged in and read, or at least glanced at, her messages wasn't logged in now. She could only hope they didn't actually read the messages.

 _'Oh, God! What if his mom read them!'_ Cameron thought in horror as she grabbed her half full glass and chugged it in one gulp. Just in case she might still save some face, she clicked on the cog icon and selected 'Delete Conversation' from the dropdown's options, then proceeded to the kitchen to pour another glass and drown her embarrassment.

Ten minutes later her phone buzzed. ' _Fuck_ ,' she thought, ' _I'm in no shape for work.'_ But, despite that, she needed to address it. She hadn't gotten as bad as him yet — though she was working toward it at a lightning pace. She still cared enough to make sure that she had someone on her team on it.

Staggering back to the living room, she grabbed her phone from the coffee table and sat on the couch to read the message.

Unknown Number:

 _Good thing I still have the emails of all your messages_

Another buzz.

 _I like reading them when I need to feel like I'm not the most pathetic human being on the planet._

Cameron's heart rate accelerated to a dangerous level as she typed back - _Who is this -_ and hit send. It could be any sort of psycho that's hacked his account. However, she was just drunk enough to not care if the person on the other phone was an ax murder. She needed, in that moment, for it to be House, and if that got her killed at least for a moment, she could live in a happy delusional state.

A buzz. - _Go to your door. I left you something_

Now, she was scared. Whoever this was, knew where she lived. The idea there could have been some random perv at her door, recently, while she's been home getting smashed, had her breathing hard. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her temperature felt like it was rising. ' _Could just be a prank and there would be nothing there,'_ she consoled herself weakly. She got up slowly, headed straight for her hall closet and took out the aluminum softball bat she had from playing in a local league a few years ago.

After getting a good grip on it, she headed to the door and peeped out of the peep hole. Seeing no one in the long hallway, of which her apartment door was at the end of, she unlocked the chain, turned the deadbolt and the door handle lock, then slowly opened the door. Glancing down the hall, it still looked empty. Looking down, just to one side of the door she found a brown shipping box. It was about 12 inches square. She poked it with the bat. No idea why, but it made her feel better about picking it up.

Taking it into her apartment, she carefully locked each lock and considered sliding her entrance table in front of the door, but finally decided against it. This whole thing was just a little too scary. But despite the creep factor, she couldn't resist taking each step. She should call the police. She shouldn't open this random box left by God knows who, but she had to know for sure. If she died, so be it. She needed to know.

The adrenaline had mostly killed her alcohol high. She held the box up and inspected the outside. It appears to have had a shipping label pulled off and part of the top layer of cardboard had been ripped off with it to reveal the corrugated layer. It had been opened and retaped with masking tape. It wasn't a heavy box, maybe 3 pounds if even. Placing it in her lap, she picked at the edge of the tape and debated on taking this further or leaving the box for the light of day. Another gulp of wine and her phone buzzed once more.

 _Open it_ \- the unknown number demanded.

 _How do you know I haven't_ \- she replied, feeling a little unsure of the entire situation.

 _I'm me, you're you_ \- she could almost see him smirking.

He always infuriated her. Knowing her better sometimes than she knew herself. ' _If it is him_ ', the last remaining sober part of her brain chimed in. Thing is, she wanted it to be him so badly, she decided it _was_ him. And, so, she pulled the tape and opened the box.


	7. This Was Where She Should Stop

**This Was Where She Should Stop**

There was a layer of bubble wrap and she pulled it out noting about a quarter of the bubbles were popped. ' _Of course, he would get pleasure in popping shipping bubbles like a little kid.'_ The idea of it made her smile and she popped a couple herself before looking at the contents. There was another box, which she pulled out. Its branding suggested it held a dildo — the kind which was custom made from a mold of a real man's penis. Under that box was a small smartphone. Likely a burner. As soon as she picked it up, it buzzed in her hand. Touching the home key, she perused the contents to find the messaging app and opened it to find a message.

 _This is safer for me. And you too_

She nodded as if he could see the response and put the phone down. ' _I need more wine,'_ she thought as she put the new phone, shipping box and dildo box on her coffee table and headed back to the kitchen and brought the rest of the second bottle back to the living room.

Sitting down with a plop, she folded her legs under her body and filled her glass again. After a couple more drinks of liquid courage, she took the second box, opened it and pulled out a bigger than average sized silicone penis from it. It had a soft texture — rather real feeling — and just to the left side of the shaft, a wine colored shape had been dyed on. All in all, it was a rather lovely cock. One she knew she'd enjoy.

 _Is this what I think it is?_ \- She typed into the new phone, hit send and waited a few seconds for a reply.

It came quickly. - _Well, if you think it's a dildo made from a mold of my rock hard cock, then yes._

 _It's beautiful_ \- she texts back, honestly. It was a lovely specimen — rather thick, long but not too long. Around eight inches give or take a centimeter. _\- What's with the mark on the side -_ she asks out of curiosity.

 _Birthmark_ \- is his answer. A second later, an image of a real penis appears. The same penis, attached to its owner. Clearly visible in the image was a similar birthmark. The sight of the source of this present — which she was beginning to fondle affectionately — caused a warm path to light up from her navel to her clit.

Another message followed. - _I wanted it to be as real as a dildo can be so when you fuck it, you know what it will feel like to have me inside of you_

 _What makes you think I'll use it -_ she asks as if there was any other option at this juncture.

 _I'm me, you're you -_ he answered, and she could imagine that smirk, yet again.

He was right and she knew it. ' _Pathetic. Pathetic and horny,'_ she thought to herself, but it was no deterrent from what she knew would happen.

His order followed quickly. - _Take off your clothes. Send me a picture. I've shown you mine, I want to see yours._

This was where she should stop. Stop and ask herself "What the fuck do you think is going on here?" Some man — some man who is supposed to be dead — and, to be fair, some man that hasn't even claimed to be said dead man, left a sex toy and phone on her door step and wanted her to get naked and use them. On top of that, wanted her to take pictures and show him.

Some lingering bit of wisdom in her wine addled mind gave a weak protest. Something to the effect of ' _you're just asking to be raped and murdered, or murdered and raped, or any combination thereof, with perhaps a dollop of torture on the side._ ' However, another more convincing part of her brain held fast to Foreman's theory. Held fast to the belief that she recognized the thumb holding down the cock in the image. Some part that believed she knew the shape of his wrist that well.

 _'If only he'd gotten just a sliver of his right thigh in the background,'_ she thought.

He was too careful for that. She knew it. Whatever game he was playing with her, he was not ready for her to know for sure. It was a test, perhaps. Or maybe it was just simple lust and curiosity. Maybe after fucking up everything in his less than ideal existence, he finally wondered if he should have taken the easier path with her. They had that much in common — neither was one for choosing the easy path. No, they preferred the hard way. The self-destructive way. The way of most pain.

So, with that thought, she began to peel off her shirt and pulled the drawstring on her comfy cotton pajama pants. A few minutes later she was naked and picked up the burner phone. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to hold the phone, and do what she and he wanted, until she looked closer at the phone's cover. There was a kickstand on the back.

She smiled. ' _Of course, he'd think that far ahead.'_

Popping out the stand she propped the phone up on her coffee table directly across from her, found the camera icon, pressed it and turned on the front camera. It only took a few seconds to get a good angle. She turned on the timer for five seconds, set it, laid back and pulled her folds open to show him how wet she was and to show him where she wanted him.

The phone beeped and the fake shutter noise filled the silent apartment room. She set it again, this time turning around to get an image of her backside as she leaned over the couch, begging him to take her from behind. Then one final image of his dildo rubbing against her outer folds, the tip just below her swollen clit.

Sitting up she queued the images and texted them to the only number on the phone.

The wait for his response was exhilarating. Cameron circled her clit slowly with her middle finger — taking her time; drawing out this moment, in case it was all she would ever have with him. After a minute the phone buzzed and she stopped her self-pleasuring to read his response.

 _I was beginning to think you'd decided not to play. But now I see you are every bit the little slut for me that you claim to be. Fuck, Cameron. I want to fuck your tight little cunt_

Her clit throbbed once in agreement as her fingers typed a response. - _Then come fuck it House. Cum. Fuck. My. Cunt. I dare you_

Quickly a response buzzed in. _\- House is dead. But I'm not. Careful. You have no idea what you are asking for_

With that comment, she positioned the phone again and set it up to record a video. She looked right into the camera and said: "I think I have a good idea" then wiggled the dildo to make her point. Lowering it to between her folds, she rubbed the length of it against her vagina coating it with her juices. After lubricating it fully, she slowly penetrated herself with it. Letting out little moans of pleasure with every decadent inch she plunged into herself. "Fuck. Your cock feels amazing," she cried out before she pulled it out. Leaning forward, she sucked it close up to the lens.

She reached up and with a wink, turned the camera off, then sent it.

Five minutes later she was on the edge of climax when the phone buzzed yet again.

It was a short video, ten seconds or so, showing his cock weeping and his hand stroking the head and smearing the pre-come the length of his shaft. It throbbed and she'd never wanted to fuck a thing so much in her entire life.

Another text message followed.

 _God that nearly made me cum. cum for me first Cameron I want to see your pussy throb for me_

She was so close, she came five seconds into the next video. She let it record for a while afterward, capturing the aftershocks of her climax. Once the twitching and throbbing died down, she sat up, sent the video, and waited.

Coming down from her sex buzz, she began to get nervous.

What had she done?

Who had she done it with?

House was dead — dental records to prove it. Her wanting him alive couldn't make it so. "Fuck!" she screamed to herself, not sure of what to do next. Then another buzz rattled from her coffee table.

 _I think I just set an ejaculation distance record. Night Cameron. Text next time you're feeling like you need it_


	8. AKA Drunken Fuckfest

**A.K.A Drunken Fuckfest**

The next week was a flurry of conflicting emotions. Embarrassment, hope, self-loathing, fear, all vying for first place in the pit of her gut. She was constantly looking over her shoulder. Henderson, her best team member, even commented on her change of demeanor. "I'm pretty sure if the cops were going to arrest one of us, they'da done it by now and that drug kingpin we cured a month ago was more than pleased with our techniques despite our poking into his business more than the average doctors might."

She waved off his concern and pulled off her reading glasses to meet his eyes. "I'm fine. I just had a weird dream the other night," she lied. "It felt so real and was really disturbing. I think it's just made me a little paranoid. Probably our fucked up schedule this last couple of cases. Nothing a week of normal sleep can't cure."

Henderson smiled and nodded. She could tell he wasn't really buying what she was selling, but he also knew her well enough to know if she didn't want to share, she wouldn't regardless the amount of prodding.

He was a good-looking younger man — 28 years-old and ready to be a rock-star doctor. He had the thought process of a Foreman with the charm of a Chase and the demeanor of a Wilson. He had a way with patients, especially the female and gay male variety that put them at ease like no one she'd ever worked with. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes.

She knew she was going hire him the minute he walked in because of how he looked. He wouldn't have made it to the interview if his professional pedigree didn't pan out, so his looks were as good a factor as any to base the final decision. She imagined that if House hadn't been mind fucked his whole life, Henderson is like what House would have been.

Henderson was flirty with her, but she could never be with him. Firstly, she was his boss. Secondly, she thought he deserved less baggage and she was determined not to fuck him up the same way House had fucked her up. Henderson, at least, had a handle on his feelings toward her. She was glad. In her current state, he was just the kind of distraction she might take full advantage of. She did, she freely admits to herself, hire him as much as lobby art as she did for his mind.

It bothered her some days — just how much like House she was becoming. It really was like a vacuum. Together their polar opposite approaches balanced and pulled against the other. They kept each other in orbit, in sync. Of course, it wasn't her that had kept him balanced outside of work. Wilson served that purpose in his real-life.

It wasn't until House was truly gone, and not just in another state, that she became fully aware of the effect he'd had on her. Even half a continent away, the idea of him had kept her grounded. His death shattered her orbit, sending her spiraling to the unknown.

And now, he might not be dead.

Or she has a stalker.

Or she's just lost her mind and none of it happened at all.

She had an MRI scheduled for later this week to see if she'd developed some sort of problem that might cause her to hallucinate this whole thing up. It's not like she can invite someone over and ask them to text this man on her burner phone and see what happens. Hell, if she's that far gone, she could be leaving these 'gifts' for herself.

She kept treating everything as if it were a symptom of some sort of mental illness. At least that was a little less scary than scenario two. As for scenario one… she wasn't even ready to decide what that might mean for her. He hadn't texted her again and she didn't know if she was ready to open that door unprompted. Returning to her paperwork, she debated on what she should do next and hoped a case would come across her desk soon to serve as a distraction.

The day drew on and there was no such luck. By four, she was sneaking shots from the bottle of vodka she kept hidden in the back of the locked file cabinet under her desk. By five, she was a little tipsy and headed out to catch the El home. Or, more specifically, to her home station. She headed straight to the little street level pub a couple of blocks away, just below the apartment building where she lived.

She ordered wine there, her true drink of choice, and was happy to re-engage the portion of buzz she had lost on her commute.

Two glasses later and the man sitting at the end of the bar was looking rather fetching. A second later she was caught looking. He bought her a drink and she went to his place and rode him like she was breaking in a wild mustang on the floor of his condo, not two feet from the door. He asked for her number after she was dressed and ready to walk out the door. She told him "Don't spoil a good fuck by expecting another," and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later she was back at her place, pouring another glass of wine and thinking that maybe she shouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave, as the orgasm she just received only served to make her want another.

Of course, there was always _him_.

With that thought, she headed to her bedroom, fished the gifted phone and silicone cock from her panty drawer and tossed them to the bed. After stripping, she joined them. She placed the phone face up on the bed and straddled herself over it on her knees. She looked at the image of her freshly fucked pussy staring back at her from the screen and wondered what he would have to say about it. She set the timer, pulled her lips open and let it take the image. She texted it to him a moment later and waited with butterflies in her stomach and a finger circling her clit, occasionally bringing it to her mouth to taste herself.

 _No foreplay this time?-_ it buzzed back about two minutes later. Then followed quickly with another - _Of course, if I were a doctor, I'd be able to tell you've already had an appetizer and now you're ready for the main course._

She smirked and typed. - _A guy bought me a drink. I fucked him. Now I want to fuck you_

Again a reply came quickly. - _Good thing for you, I've never minded sloppy seconds. I want to watch you this time. All of it._

No sooner did she read the message than Skype began to ring the phone. She's excited. He wanted to video chat with her. After answering she was disappointed to discover he had put something over his camera. She said aloud, "That's hardly fair."

A message bubble answered her. - _You know by now life isn't fair. Prop up the phone between your legs so I can see your wet little cunt and fuck yourself so I can get off_

"Yes sir," she answered with a salute and did just as he had asked. Once pleased he could see everything, she rubbed her clit hard and came on her fingers. A few seconds later she grabbed the dildo and plunged it inside her with a moan of sheer ecstasy. "Oh, god. Your cock is so much better. I wanted to just think of you as I fucked him, but he didn't have this." She pulled out the dick and sucked it like she wants to suck him, then thrust it back inside her pussy and pounded it as hard as she could.

It's not enough.

It's not real.

She needed him.

Hearing an alert, she looked to the screen and read: - _You need me to really fuck you, don't you_

"Yes. I need your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me raw and come inside me."

Another bubble popped on the screen. - _You got some lube?_

"Lube? I'm dripping wet."

She watched the dancing dots as he typed his reply, the whole while she fucked herself in front of the camera. Finally, the message appeared. _It's not for your pussy. I've always wanted to pound that tight little ass of yours. Since the first time I saw it, I wanted to fuck it. Over my desk. Hard. I wanted to make you cum from a good ass fucking._

Cameron was not one for anal. Even in the drunken state she was in, it caused her to take pause. Dirty sex chat about it was one thing. Fucking her own ass for real, quite another. And yet, she never could say no to him.

"I think I have some leftover from when I was with Ray." She said aloud, not so much to him. A year into their marriage, Ray and she had long since lost the spark so lube was something she needed to give him the weekly fuck that kept him happy and off of her the rest the week.

She tossed her underwear around until she found the small, half-full bottle and returned to the bed. She found an angle comfortable enough to work yet still gave him a full show, then squirted some lube in her hand and began circling her anus with slick fingers.

It felt superbly dirty to touch herself in this way. She took a little more lube and returned her hand to her rear entrance and pushed in her middle finger, fucking it slowly. A few minutes later she'd graduated to two fingers and was about to take the third when she heard the alert.

 _Goddamn, Cameron, I might have just ruined my keyboard._

The line disconnected and he was gone.

"What the hell!" She yelled at the phone, in frustration.

As if it heard her, a text buzzed in.

 _I lied about not minding sloppy seconds. Don't ever fuck someone else again and text me to show it off. If you want to fuck me, come fuck me, otherwise, don't play this bullshit game. Believe it or not, I am past games._

She grabbed the phone, not caring that she was smearing it with her fluids and bottled lube. - _Not into games! Then wtf is this?_

His reply sobered her. - _This is how it has to work when you decide you want to be with a dead man_


	9. Sorry

**Sorry**

Another week passed. Thanksgiving went by relatively unnoticed, as it did most years with her working through it. Dinner consisted of turkey and stuffing from the hospital cafeteria. She didn't have a case, so she volunteered to take a double in the ER to allow someone with a family to have the day at home. Ray had managed to snag Little Greg once more for the holiday. It was maddening but she didn't have much fight left in her.

Cameron avoided the little pub like the plague. She curbed her drinking, seeing as it was as much to blame for her behavior as anything. She was still completely fucked up and she knew it and didn't see a way past it.

He didn't text her. She knew he wouldn't. He'd made the only effort he was going to make by giving her the mode of communication in the first place. She tried to put it all out of her mind. Put _him_ out of her mind.

'He' may still be a murderous stalker but she was past caring. In some way, she wished he was and would save her from this life since she didn't have what it takes to take that sort of matter into her own hands. Another trait she shared with _him_.

At least she had Greg today — something to look forward to. Greg was something good she'd done, despite the mistake she'd made while making him, she could never regret him. Early in the morning, she set about locking all the child locks on the doors and cabinets of her apartment. He was into everything now — mobile, curious and determined to explore _everything_. She _had_ to be sober for it. He was hard to handle even with the sharpest mind.

After a full day that started with playing in the park, followed by lunch, a nap, book reading and building tall block building simple to knock them to the ground, they ate dinner. Well, Cameron ate. Greg mostly used food as a creative art medium with her kitchen table and floor as his canvas. Some of it made it into his mouth, but she was convinced that was an accident.

After dinner she set him loose to run the length of her hallway, again and again, giggling the whole time. The rooms containing things little hands shouldn't pry into were locked. After an hour of cleaning to a soundtrack of hyperactive giggles, they settled in front of the TV and watched three straight episodes of Dora that she'd DVR'd during the week. His head was nodding and bobbing the last ten minutes so she turned the TV off and put him to bed.

The overwhelming silence of her apartment bored into her. She was afraid to watch TV because she didn't want to wake Little Greg, but she was going out of her mind staring at the four walls of her living room. There was consideration of streaming a movie on her laptop using headphones but nothing struck her interest. A voice in the back of her mind plagued her. It had been there since the night she now refers to as 'drunken fuckfest' and in the silence of her lonely room, the voice grew louder and louder.

 _'You fucked it all up, Allison. You are so fucked up, you've managed to scare off a crazy person who is just as fucked up, maybe more._

 _'You should tell him you're sorry, at least. If you never hear from him again, you can at least let him know that some part of you is not completely lost.'_

With that thought, she headed to her bedroom and got the phone. Flopping on her bed, sitting up on the pillows against the headboard, she crossed her legs and typed the first sober message she's sent to him since before he died. - _I'm sorry_

She expected nothing in return and received nothing. After 30 minutes of staring at the damned screen, debating on actually dialing the number, but not bothering because she knew he'd never answer, her eyelids grew heavy. She'd not gone to bed at a decent hour in months and tonight everything was catching up with her. A moment later she was asleep, atop the comforter, still in her jeans and red sweater.

She awoke in the middle of the night, her mind still heavy with sleep, to find she'd managed to work her way under the covers and take off her jeans. She was more warm and content than she'd been since the early days of dating Ray. She was asleep again before her mind could think about it more.

As the sun began to peek through the slats of the Venetian blinds that covered the windows in her bedroom, Cameron began to come to consciousness and her body longed to stretch out. As she started to roll over, her ass connected with something. Something deliciously firm. Her mind, still half asleep, told her ass that rubbing against this firm shaft was only logical. Her ass agreed. Only then did she discover her arm was covered by a larger one and her whole body became wholly aware of the heat of another.

Adrenaline kicked in waking her fully with a start. The arm draped over her reacted quickly and before she knew it she was laying on top of the stranger in her bed, his hand over her mouth, his hard cock pressed against her back, and his other arm wrapped around her holding her tightly against him. His left leg snaked up over both hers pinning them as he ground his hardened manhood into her squirming figure.

Her whole body sobbed as the full reality of the situation hit her.

 _'This is it._

 _'He's come for me.'_


	10. The Intruder

**The Intruder**

After the first shock of waking up not alone, and being held down, Cameron's first thought was of her son. Had this intruder 'looked in' on him? Did he know Greg was here? He seemed to know far more than he should about her. It's likely he knew. If it was possible her pulse quickened more and she whimpered as a tear fell from her right eye, down her cheek.

It was then the man finally spoke. Barely a whisper in her ear, "You said you would know it was me. Calm down, Cameron."

It was then the floodgates opened. It was him. He was here. In her bed. Holding her. Granted it was just a little creepy, but it was exactly what she'd told him she wished for in her messages. She stopped struggling against him as she began to sob and wail. He slid her off him and they turned to face one another and for the first time in many years, blue eyes met green.

He raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheek. His hair was longer but a little thinner, his beard was full and thick rather than a few days worth of scruff. Both his hair and his beard were colored chestnut brown hiding all the gray. His eyes had more lines around them but they danced and looked at her in a way she'd missed since the day she walked out of his life so many years ago refusing to look back.

He smirked his trademark smirk. "You know, I pictured this whole thing being much hotter, sweatier and I expected you to be dripping fluid from an orifice other than your eyes."

"Oh, god! House!" She lunged forward, rolling him to his back and kissing him senseless.

"Hey, hey!" He grunted and groaned as her tongue filled his mouth but they were not noises of pleasure. She pulled back for a moment. "Leg! And I'm not House. House is dead. I'm just a guy that has the same limp."

She raised up to sit on him, smiled, then reached between them to grab his dick through his boxers. "There is nothing limp about this."

Then there were no more words. He nearly ripped off her sweater before she stopped kissing him long enough to toss the offending garment the breadth of the room. Her bra followed in short order. Looking down, she took a moment to observe the man beneath her. He was clad in light blue boxers and a worn out black graphic tee with a nearly completely faded logo for an indy band she'd known was popular for a minute in the mid-90s but couldn't remember the name of. He looked as perfectly fuckable as she remembered.

She leaned forward and resumed kissing him. _'Fuck he tastes just like I remember!'_

Needing air once more, she raised from the deep and sloppy kiss. She ran a finger over the collar of his shirt. ' _The collar is already ripped in places, and it would be so easy to just...'_

In a moment of pure lust-fueled animal-need, she ripped his shirt open from neck to tail. He was wide eyed as he watched, and she took his look to be a positive signal. Her mouth followed the opening licking and biting its way all the way down to the hem of his boxers. Looking back up at him, she found his head thrown back. Pleased, she returned to her destination and sucked his weeping cock through the fabric of his light blue cotton boxers.

A moan seeped from him and she pulled his underwear down, taking no notice of his damaged leg. Her mind was elsewhere — a familiar sight greeted her and she took it in her mouth and took him in nearly to the base of his dick. She'd practiced on his clone enough times to take him deep without gagging.

He laid back fully, allowing her to pleasure him. Occasionally he bucked into her mouth, nearly choking her once, but she didn't let it deter her. His cock was magnificent. She wanted all of it and was more than pleased with the amount of control he exhibited thus far. A lesser man would have blown his load by now. House simply got harder (she wondered how that was even possible) until she reached the point she could no longer stand not having him inside of her pussy.

She crawled by up his body, slid herself over him and positioned his throbbing head at her entrance as she kissed him again. He grabbed her ass with both hands before she could sink down to join their bodies. "Condom. One Little Greg is good for now."

She exhaled and chided herself for becoming so lost with him. She never forgot things like protection when she was sober. Since Greg, even drunk she remembered. Then again, she was beyond drunk on House — this sex god beneath her. She rolled off of him and opened the drawer on the side table. There she found a pack of condoms and eyed them suspiciously.

"These are going to be a tight fit. Please tell me you brought your own."

"My pants are on the floor beside the bed. There's a couple in the front left pocket."

She pulled them out like a pirate who just found the mother load of buried treasure. A moment later she was rolling one on his length and sank onto him, all the while their eyes were locked. The intensity of the moment was second only to the moment her son let out his first cry and was placed on her chest. It was so powerful both had to look away. Despite that, she felt a peace she'd never felt before. And, unless she was so high on him she was imagining things, she was certain she saw the same look in his eyes before they broke contact.

She had never felt so full. His hands guided her thrusts as his mouth latched onto her neck. It didn't take long for them to reach the edge. Afterall, they'd had over a year's worth of foreplay that coalesced in that moment.

They screamed in unison at their climax.

"Fuck that was…" Cameron panted just as a different type of scream echoed from down the hall. She sighed as she sat up and looked down at House. "I have to go get him. I think we scared him."

There was practically negative cuddling, but she couldn't leave Greg to cry in the other room when she was sure their outburst was the cause. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a tee shirt, dressing as she moved out of the room to attend her son. The man in her bed, simply lay there exhausted and naked.

"Shhh, hey buddy. It's fine. You're fine. Mommy's fine." She picked him up and he clung to her. He was big for his age and dominated her small frame. He sobbed with his head on her shoulder as she cooed and rocked him. He sniffled and cried out to her "Stuart!" which was the name of his stuffed beanie dog and his security animal. She scooped it up from his bed and he took it with his right hand and curled it into his body all the while still clinging to his mother for dear life.

"You hungry, bub?"

He answered with only a nod and she carried him out of his room, down the short hallway to the kitchen. The closer they got, the more fidgety Greg became. It always amazed Cameron just how short a 3-year-old's memory was. The tears on his check weren't even dry by the time he was running across the kitchen floor shouting "Cereal!" merrily and climbing into his booster seat at the head of her small table.

"How about a treat this morning? Would you like it if mommy put some fruit loops in your cheerios?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Mommy! You da best Mommy."

"Thanks, bub." She smiles. Of late she'd been worried his new step mommy might start winning his heart. Ray had moved on. Anna and he had moved quickly. So much so, Cameron wondered if it had been something before the divorce. Not that she gave a hot damn. She didn't love Ray and there was nothing for him in their marriage toward the end.

Her only hope was that Anna could make room in her home for Cameron's son. Especially if Anna and Ray had more children. Time would tell. For now, things seemed fine.

Cameron finished filling his bowl and poured over the milk then handed it to him with a spoon. "Mommy's gotta get something from her room. She'll be right back," she told him as she petted his soft hair.

Greg continued eating happily, between bites chatting away at Stuart and did little to acknowledge her as she left the room. Two steps into the hall she runs into the other Greg, or whoever he is since Gregory House died. She stopped a few inches shy of bowling him over. He was dressed in jeans, an open oxford button down and no t-shirt. _Oh yeah, I destroyed that._ She thought happily. God, he still looked good. Better than good.

Sure, he needed a haircut, she missed the gray highlights and he could stand to be a little less hipster with the beard length, but the added age lines suited him. She'd always had a thing for older men. His long lean body was perfect. A pinch of love just about the sides of his waist but toned in all the right places. Strong arms and hands — hands perfectly sized for grabbing her ass.

He observed her assessment of his appearance smugly, then pressed her against the wall of the hall. "I loved that shirt. How are you going to make up for destroying it?"

"I can think of a few things. But first, I think I should know the name of the man I'm sleeping with."

His face lit with mirth as he told her, "Don Johnson."

She stared back a moment with an eyebrow raised. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, come on. You're a child of the 80's. I'm sure you had your elementary school girl crush on Sonny Crockett." He was right. She did. ' _What girl didn't?'_ She mused.

"Okay, then _Don_ ," she replied as her hands roamed freely over his lightly haired chest. "I have to get dressed and meet Ray downstairs in 30 minutes to drop off Greg. After which, I have some very interesting plans for your johnson." She rubbed his penis through his jeans to emphasize her point. "In the meantime would you mind keeping an eye on Greg while I shower? Last thing I need to have is that freshly-fucked smell around Ray. He's just looking for reasons to kill all my visitation rights these days."

"Sure. Take me to the kid. I'll make sure he doesn't burn the place down. Got something to eat in this place?"


	11. A Bowl of Fruitloops with Jesus

**A Bowl of Fruitloops With Jesus**

Cameron would forever be asking herself what it was about Ray that had drawn her in. He was average looking, not ugly, not hot. "Easy enough to look at", her mother would say. He was a solid guy. A good friend to his friends. Before the divorce, she'd thought him a fair minded person. Now, she wasn't so sure.

He had family money and he used it to get the best attorneys while she had assumed they would separate under amenable terms. Blindsided and unable to counter fast enough, she couldn't begin to hire a lawyer who could compete. And though she had never hurt for money, Ray had the means to throw an entire law firm against her. It was far from a fair fight.

 _'Bastard.'_ She thought as she told herself again that life was rarely fair.

She'd hurt him and he wouldn't be made a fool of twice. At least that was how she believed he saw it. Oh, he was all smiles with her when she picked up or dropped off their son. As far she had observed, Ray hadn't bad mouthed her outright around or directly to Greg, but she knew Ray well enough to see the resentment for her lack of interest in being married to him. That she'd rather pine over a dead man than be with Ray and their son among the living.

His argument was always the same:

 _"I should have fucking known you were still in love with him after the fit you threw over naming our son! And why did you really even care?! All you care about is your goddamn job. A job you don't even need, by the way. I have more than enough money for both of us to retire and raise Greg so he can have both his parents around. Not that we have to helicopter parent him, it's good for him to see us work, but open your own practice, for god's sake! Set your own hours. Be home by five and have dinner with your family — our family!"_

At one point she thought that Ray had lectured her so many times she could recite along with him. He was not amused when, after having just a little too much to drink, she did.

She loved Greg. She wanted him. She'd always wanted a son. But she loathed the circumstances surrounding him. When she was finished pretending, she walked out on Ray, Greg in tow. Mothers are supposed to be the ones who raise the kid, after all.

Ray's lawyers chewed her up and spat her out.

That's when the real depression started.

The occasional night of one too many glasses of wine became the occasional night of having one too many bottles of wine and the real self-destructive behavior kicked in — the descent into House's domain. Sure, she still held the hand of her patients, but it was a means to an end. House got what he needed with bullying; she was as effective with kindness. However, at this point in her life, kindness wasn't more than a means to an end. She didn't do 'bitch' well, so she used the weapons in her arsenal.

The problem was the more success she had with the job, the more Ray took from her at home. At first, he'd been flexible with her schedule. Two days a week. Didn't matter to him which. Quickly it became strictly the weekend and holidays. Her job in the ER simply didn't work that way and soon it became only Saturday. She made it work — put the ultimatum in with her boss and decided even if she had to take Greg to daycare at work, she didn't dare ask Ray to swap a day. Even after her diagnostics team was formed and she was promised most weekends off, she couldn't get a reversal from the court to gain back Sundays.

All the while, Ray was ever so perfectly wonderful to their son. It drove her mad. Greg loved his father. There was no doubt the man hung the moon in his son's eyes. So Cameron was left licking her wounds and being grateful for that small bright side. Ray and she had, at least, made a really great kid together.

"Daddy!" Greg squealed as Cameron let go of his hand so he could run to his father, who then swept up the little boy and spun him in a circle before putting him down again, Greg giggling the whole time.

"D'ya have fun with Mommy, Sport?"

"Yep. We watched Dora and this morning Mommy let me have some fruit loops in my cheerios! And then Jesus had a bowl of fruit-loops with me. He said Santa got my list!"

Allison felt the blush forming on her neck and beginning to rush up her cheeks. Ray gave her a questioning look, knowing that she did not share in his belief in Jesus or even something as simple as going to Church once or twice a year for the holidays. No, that was another thing on the long list of reasons why she and Ray were never going to work.

"A friend I haven't seen in a few years surprise-visited me this morning. He's got a beard and his hair is longish. I guess Greg thinks he has a Jesus look. And Don's the type of guy who runs with something like that for fun. They must've had a little discussion over cereal when I was in the bathroom."

"So, Jesus guy had _breakfast_ with you?" It was an accusation and she knew it. Funny how there are no problems with his girlfriend, but any hint of Allison having a sex life and he was ready to pounce on it as yet another sign of her being unfit to be a mother to their son.

"He stopped in early this morning, completely surprised me and he had a kid flashback when he saw the fruit loops. He was always a bottomless pit. So I poured him a bowl."

"Okay." Ray's tone was still filled with indictment, but she was over giving a damn. He would do what he was going to do. She couldn't control a damned thing about him. "Well, kiddo, sounds like an exciting morning getting to meet Jesus. Now we can go to church and you can tell your Sunday school teacher all about it. Tell Mommy 'bye' now."

Her son turns to her. She bends down and gets a bear hug in return."Love you Mommy! Have fun with Jesus!"

"Honey, that wasn't really Jesus. He was play acting, like the plays they put on at church for Easter and Christmas. His name is Don. He's just a friend of Mommy's. Okay?"

"Oh. So like when Brother Jamie pretend to be Jesus?" He recalled from the Easter play she'd been forced to attend, just so she could spend the holiday with her son.

"Yeah honey, or like when you pretend you are a superhero." He nodded in understanding.

"Don is funny. Bye Mommy!" His father swoops him up and he waves over his dad's shoulder all the way out of the lobby.

 _'Whew, that was close."_ Allison thought as she made her way to the elevators. _"Fucking House! Well, Don Johnson. Only he'd be so ridiculous. At least Greg was smart enough to understand the concept of pretending for fun.'_ Still, she had half a mind to kill the man that she hoped was true to his word and would still be in her apartment when she returned from the lobby.

She opened the door to find herself pulled in and pushed against the wall. The door somehow shut and she was sure she heard the locks latch, but had no idea how since _Don_ was thoroughly disrobing her simultaneously. Perhaps her own hands helped. Hard to be sure with his tongue doing such distracting things to her neck and ear.

He was strong. She'd always known that. His build showed it, despite his not being cut like a bodybuilder. She'd seen him pin a woman her size to a bathroom stall, punch out Chase, and do all manner of things with his upper body that spoke to his raw athleticism. But there was his leg, and she wondered just how long this wall session could last. "Couch…" she mumbled into his mouth as he paused for a breath between kisses.

"Probably a good idea," he conceded but made no effort to move right away, electing instead to nip on her bottom lip and draw her bare legs around him. His cock pressed against her panties through his jeans. It was a decadent friction and she was sure he was doing it just to prove he could, at least for a moment, hold her there like any other whole-bodied man.

"God, you're hard." As the reference to the deity neither believed in escaped her lips, she was reminded she was a little miffed at him for his shenanigans. "Or should I call you Jesus? The whole trinity thing makes your identity rather convoluted."

"They've both been taking credit for my work for years. I thought it'd be fun to claim a little of the glory back. I even pulled off my own resurrection, complete with a bonus erection for my favorite disciple. Besides, you know you'd enjoy fucking the son of God. But, let's be real, Jesus could never fuck you half as thoroughly as Don Johnson can and will. Also, I'm pretty sure my dick is the wrong model. Definitely could be the dick of a god, but never the dick of a Jew."

 _'Always the smart ass.'_ It turned her on even more. She wanted his Gentile cock inside her now in far less than gentle way.

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, and move this to the couch?"

"I'm ready to put the pussy where my mouth is. It's far cleaner than money and tastes way better." That's all she could take before dropping her legs and pushing him backward. He took a step back and gave her a look that screamed he wished could walk backward with more ease while kissing her senseless.

Their eyes locked and it was as intense as before. He turned quickly. Every time he looked into her eyes with unguarded passion it seemed to burn both of them.

He led her to the couch and took a seat. She thought about the logistics of oral from his seated position and figured she could stand on the couch over him and give him full access, but there was nothing for her to steady herself on near the sofa. Before she could finish figuring out her dilemma, he'd grabbed her, turned her, and pulled her panties down as he bit into her left ass cheek. She leaned forward and put her hands on the coffee table and spread her legs a little more, to give his mouth better access. Her actions were rewarded with a long, hot lick from clit to anus, then his tongue plunged inside her warm center and wiggled around shamelessly fucking her.

He was as good at kissing her pussy as he was her mouth. She'd never assumed less, but to find his mouth finally there, where she'd wanted it for as long as she had known him, was a sensation unlike any. He savored her like a decadent chocolate dessert. His hums and groans evidencing his approval of her flavor.

She was on the edge, but couldn't spill over before he grabbed her hips and pulled her down to his lap ass first, slipping himself into her skillfully. She leaned back against his chest, sweeping her hair to one side. Her head laid back onto his shoulder to give his mouth access to her neck. His hands pushed her legs together and between his — when he had managed to get rid of his jeans and roll on a condom she may never know. He was a magician this morning. His dick worked its magic on her pussy.

She placed her hands on his forearms for leverage and moved up and down meeting his thrusts. After a minute, his arms encircled her. He pushed into her hard and deep, holding her body still as his cock twitched. He was holding back his orgasm because he knew she wasn't ready. After a moment his right hand found her clit, his left her breast, and his mouth latched onto her earlobe. He worked her, all the while sliding his cock slowly against the front wall of her vagina, nailing her g-spot in ways she'd experienced few times before. His legs pressed against hers, his cock filled her completely and his fingers rubbed up and down on her clit frantically as she felt the throb of his cock shooting its load inside her, the combination had her screaming his name, his real name, just a few seconds after his release, which earned her a growl. "Fuck Cameron, your pussy is as tight, as hot, and _more_ fucking sweet than I imagined. But, the name's Don."

"Sorry. I didn't want to die without knowing the feeling."

"Every woman should know what it feels like."


	12. Don Johnson

**Don Johnson**

He laid back against her in the tub. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His head rested between her breasts; his chin was just above the water line; the beard dipped into the water and curled a little when wet. His legs were bunched up in front of him, making it easy for her to see the damage to his right thigh peeking more than half way above the water line. He was way too long for her tub, but he didn't seem to care.

It felt damned good to Cameron. Perfect, really.

"So what's up with the Jesus look?" She asked while running her fingers through his wet hair.

"It's not quite that bad yet." He replied lazily, not bothering to open his eyes as she continued to stroke his hair and scalp. The hair was thinning. She wondered if he'd end up being one of those really hot bald men when his follicles finally lose the battle.

"You had Greg fooled." She teased back and decided that yes, he would be hot no matter what.

His head turned slightly. The right eye peeked open with brow raised to regard her shrewdly. "So what's up with your kid believing in Jesus and Santa? I guess Santa shouldn't be a big surprise because you are way too excited about Christmas. But the Jesus thing seems a little odd from the son of an atheist." His face returned to its more peaceful pose between her breasts. "Please tell me it's just from a yearly tradition of watching _A South Park Christmas_."

Cameron sighed, wishing that were the truth and watched as House's head raised and fell with her chest. "That's all Ray. I really picked a winner this time. He has Greg in church nearly every Sunday. He said he didn't think that I was really a _real_ atheist because I was so _nice_ and _compassionate_ and didn't want to abort Greg. His sense of right and wrong is so tied up with heaven and hell that he can't figure out how someone can have morals without it being tied to fear of 'eternal damnation in the pits of hell!'" She added a bit of pulpit bravado to the last bit, which made House smile.

"Anyway, I don't want to open that old wound. What's up with the look?" She probed again.

"When I know I'm going to travel to places where someone might know me, I grow everything out for a few months, dye it. I even have some brown contacts I put on when I go out and I switch my cane to the left side or sometimes just limp around without it. My physio would be _so proud_. I generally shoot for crazy homeless looking war veteran and typically people go out of their way not to look very closely at me. The homeless guy look just happens to make me look a little like white Jesus."

"If you don't mind me asking, where have you been since you died?"

He laughs causing the water to splash around them. "The irony of that statement is rather fitting." She joins his laughter at her accidental joke. After a moment, he continues.

"I've been working in a lab at the University of Bonn, in Germany, infecting rats and the occasional human test group with loads of interesting diseases. An old acquaintance from pre-med who owed me a huge favor runs the lab there. A couple of weeks after Wilson died, I happened to read he was hosting a conference in Saint Paul and I got this great idea.

"I pretended to run into him at a Starbucks. When he turned to see me waiting for a drink beside him, he immediately asked if I was me. I pretended to be confused that he knew me. After a few attempts of acting like he had me confused with someone, I rolled my eyes and dragged him over to a corner table. Then convinced him, in very hushed tones over a mocha frap, that my death had been faked by the government. I'd been a snoop while in prison and was a key witness to nail the leader of a major drug cartel."

She loved his creative lies. Kissing the top of his head, she could visualize the scenario perfectly. Cameron was certain he had more than his fair share of fun planning the con and how expertly he must have pulled it off.

House sighed fondly in reverie. "It was like fishing in a stocked pond. He was completely into it. I told him how they'd hooked me up with a job as a sous-chef since that's the only thing I knew how to do well that would also keep me out of the public eye. I'd been 'forced to give up medicine, but they'd pardoned me and worked it out so I could spend those six months with Wilson in the witness protection program.' I emphasized several times that I shouldn't even be talking to him, but he'd been 'so insistent' and I had to admit that 'I was dying to talk medicine with anyone.' He bought it completely.

"Anyway, his focus is also infectious disease. In school, he was one of those people who had great instincts, did his homework, but sucked at test taking. I, on the other hand, can get whatever score I want on any kind of standardized test. So, for fun and to earn extra beer and pot money, I used to take tests for people and tailor the score to whatever they wanted.

"Richard didn't have enough money to pay me, but I thought he'd make a hell of a researcher if he could just pass the MCAT, so I offered to do it for him for a favor to be named later. Turns out that favor was getting me a job in his lab, half a world away from anyone who knows me. I have complete control over who I interact with. It's not the same as our cases, but there are plenty of puzzles for me to solve. I actually think this has been one of the best fuck-ups I've ever made. It's a balance I've not ever had with my work and my life."

"That's kind of amazing, Hou… ah, Don. How _did_ you manage to become Dr. Don Johnson."

"Well, the Dr. part is completely due to Richard being a position to hire whomever he wants and his boss assuming he vets everyone accordingly. It's research, so I don't need a license. That made it a little easier. I paid some kid in graphic design school fifty bucks cash in a coffee shop one night to make me a legitimate looking doctoral degree 'for an independent film I was making.' Two hours later, I was printing it up at Kinkos. It's not like anyone is ever going to look at it on the wall of my office and think… 'Gee, I should call the University of Oregon and ask about Don Johnson, from the class of '86.' Hell, it's not that likely anyone working there now was there in '86 to ask about it."

Cameron let out a humph. "Never really thought about it that way. Kind of scary, really."

"Exactly. When was the last time you checked out the degree of someone older than 30, instead of just calling their references? Most people trust that everyone else did their due diligence. It only takes one well-placed lie, with a little bit of evidence to become whatever you want to be. If you can do the job after the fact, then you're golden. No one is going to question a guy doing his job well."

"The Don Johnson part is a little more complicated. But the short story is I bought a dead man's identity; a homeless guy. Their deaths go largely unreported. There are people who get intel from the shelters. Those people have connections with some poorly paid, low-level government data-entry workers who then sell these now unused identities and create enough of a paper trail to make it look legit. Don had a 'rich friend' leave him everything and he was able to crawl out of the squalor and back into society.

"It's a lot cheaper than you'd think, too. The name Don Johnson was just the luck of the draw. He was the first six foot two, blue eyed, brown haired homeless white guy around my age to kill over after I put in my order. If you have time, they can match your specs pretty accurately. It took about a month for my perfect match. If you're not picky they can usually find someone close enough for cosmetics in a few days to a week."

Leave it House to find something like that. Still, she wondered how he managed it. "How on earth did you find out about that sort of… _service_?"

"Wilson's crazy brother. He was homeless for a long time. Saw lots of shit like that go down. He knew a guy who knew a guy, as they say."

"Who else knows you're alive?" She asks, tracing his eyebrows now. Enjoying how relaxed his features appeared. More peaceful than she generally remembers him. There were a few moments, of course. She was glad to be part of this one.

"As you know, I left Foreman a clue. I needed my mother to handle some legal matters, and honestly, I can't lie to her, even while dead. It's the damnedest thing. She was the first person I told. I didn't want her getting the death call first, so swapped the records, got a burner phone and called her before I did anything else. Stacy knows. I needed a lawyer I could trust to back date some documents to make sure all my stuff went to Wilson and not Dominika. Wilson invited Stacy over to his place after the funeral because we had to figure all that out before we went on the road and she still owed me big time. Regardless of everything between us, I knew I could trust her with this. Mom made sure my estate was taken care of and Wilson's too when he died left everything to his new found best friend Don Johnson. She didn't even tell my step-dad. I know she's a hell of a liar, so things are safe there. And now, you know.

"You know it's funny. Wilson almost talked me into coming here before he died. Told me that of all the people we knew from work, you were the one he knew we could trust. I kinda think he wanted to have sex with you. Like maybe you'd made his bucket list, but he wouldn't say it to me because of the guy code. I guess I'd expressed some… _interest_ in you that first year on my team and he couldn't get past that."

If it was possible to be shocked yet not surprised at all at his revelation, she was managing to be both in that moment. She wanted him to confirm that she wasn't crazy back then. He _did_ act interested in her but then was as cold as ice, as if it had all been an experiment on a lab rat.

A million and one questions began swirling around in her head. She knew better than to ask any of them. He was still House, regardless what his driver's license might say. Instead, she played it cool, as if his admission of interest was a normal thing that happened daily between them.

She decided it was best to tease back. "Ehh, Wilson's like my brother. Like seriously, looks kinda like him and everything. That would be… incestuous."

"Ahhh, and here I thought that you'd be an easy target with him dying of cancer. Hell, I was surprised you didn't jump him at my wake."

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and hit the easy button. I don't mind."

Grabbing the sides of the tub, he sat up a little and turned his head with a wicked grin. "I've been hitting it all morning. Give an old guy a break. Viagra can only do so much before the prostate makes it unpleasant."

"Why tell me now?"

"You know why." He sat up fully. Gave her a look that indicated she should get out first. As she did, he continued. "Your messages created too much of a puzzle. I needed to come put the pieces in place in person."

Fully out and dripping, she grabbed one of the towels she'd laid out on the toilet lid. "But why even check them? Greg House is dead, remember?" She wrapped it around her, tucking it at her right breast. Looking back when hearing the water slosh, she found House had managed to get himself standing.

"Yeah, well, the email I use to set up porn and sex chat accounts and my Facebook email are the same, because at the time I signed up for it, I was only doing it as a joke and I didn't want the Facebook spam in my real email account." She handed him a towel and offered a hand to him. For once in their relationship, he took it and stepped out. "At the time, I had no idea you could change the settings to turn the automatic emails off and I never had a reason to change it. I logged in to that email account for the first time in forever to confirm a password change to Busty Brazilians Dot Com and saw the email alerts with your messages."

He began to dry off. "Those messages were _way_ more fun than sex chat with a stranger. Even a hot Brazilian one. I binge read about 100 of them the first night. A month later, I had some business to take care of back in the States, so I thought, 'Fuck it, I'd like to see Cameron.' I started planning the trip, and came up with a plan to surprise you and you know the rest."

"So you missed me?" She smiled.

He gave her a cocky tilt of the head and teased, "Mostly, after reading your messages, I wanted to stave off the years of curiosity about how you are in bed. I no longer have any good reasons to continue avoiding it."

"And, what is the verdict?" She asks as she pulls him in for a hug. He pushed her back with a tug on her towel, dropping it to the floor, and eyed her naked body as if it was the first time.

"That if I'd know just what a slut you are back then, I'd have fucked the shit out of you during your interview instead of hiring you to be my lobby art. You give off this air of being all classy and demure, but there is nothing classy or demure about the way you fuck. I like that in a woman."

"I would _not_ have had sex with you during the interview." She acts offended, but yanks his towel off in-kind and drops to her knees.

"Oh, I am pretty sure that's a lie." He smiles down and pulls the ties from her hair, freeing the blonde waves to cascaded over her shoulders. "I remember that skirt you were wearing. It was so fucking conservative, I wanted to sit you on my desk, push it up. I imagined I'd find you with no panties and dripping wet for me. In my mind, I was finger fucking your pretty little virgin pussy on my desk the entire interview."

"And, I'm pretty sure that's a lie, but I'm game to role play it later if you want." She smiles then licks his quickly hardening cock. He was either serious about the Viagra or he was the luckiest middle-aged guy on the planet to be able to get hard so many times in one day. It didn't matter to Cameron which was true. It only mattered that his dick was always ready for her.

As she took him into her warm mouth, he sucked in air, following with a deep grunt. "You're too blonde now. Maybe if you ever decide to go brunette again. Do you still have that awful skirt, and that frilly top?" She didn't take him out of her mouth but she did roll her eyes at his wisecrack.

He smirked and began to meet her mouth with harder thrusts, all the while continuing to joke. "I'm betting no. But I bet it wouldn't take long to find something like it online."


	13. A Good Day for Pretending

**A Good Day for Pretending**

He was truly a bad influence on her, talking her into using long built up emergency leave for a week of hedonism. She had never blown more than a day of work in a row with some fake excuse and she could count on one hand the times she'd ever done that. It was hard to regret it while his hard shaft was rammed into her fully, stroking her in ways she had thought were the stuff of myth. He was good at everything he put his mind to and he'd obviously spent copious amounts of time pondering the art of sexual intercourse.

He was also a hell of a cook, she'd heard, but never fathomed the extent and was all too happy to allow him to serve his world class crepes and waffles to himself using her as the plate. She had always wanted to have him take her from behind over his desk, her kitchen table turned out to be a fine substitute. He licked every inch of her back in the process, her ass cheeks, her thighs. Kissed and nibbled the backs of her knees. Pulled her, from her position laid out on the middle of the table, until her feet hit the ground. Pounded her with his expert prick until she screamed. Pulling out — ' _condoms were so yesterday'_ — he sprayed her ass with his release. Finally, ordering her off to the shower, him trailing in his uneven gate, pinching her playfully as they went and finally back to bed for a refuel nap.

The afternoon light coaxed them from their naked slumber. He was behind her, holding her to his chest in a way she'd never expect of him. His hand trailed slowly up her body and brushed her damp hair away from her neck and his beard began to tickle her in a way that she was fast becoming addicted to. "Middle aged men are not supposed to have all day sex fests. You must have been sporting a permanent hard-on as a teenager."

"I'm not hard now."

"But you…"

"Like nibbling on you. Yes. I like making you come. If I get lucky and get another hard-on great, otherwise I'll just embrace a little lesbian role play."

Just when she was sure that there was no way in hell any of this could really be real, because ' _What guy ever says that?'_ , her phone rings.

Softly, he demands she "Leave it." Grabbing her arm as she picks up the offending device from her nightstand.

"I'm expecting a call. I should take it," she explained.

He bartered as he let her arm loose. "Fine. Take it while sitting on my face at least."

"Hello…" she answered as she rolled her eyes and scooted away from him. She listened to the report from her MRI with mixed feelings. "Yeah. So no anomalies? Nothing that might cause abnormal or risk-taking behavior?" Not to be deterred, House disappeared beneath the sheets and his mouth found its way to her pussy. She wanted to protest, but his tongue was far too talented to push away.

Her breathing started to deepen as she ended the call. "Thanks, Harry. I owe you one. Later."

"Fuck. Hou… Don… that is… oh yeah, that's it, right there. No doubt you have a medical degree... " She tossed the phone to the side and grabbed the sheets as she came. House licked his way back up her body and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her lips as he rubbed his half hardened cock against her thigh.

"I think that Little Don is a fan of lesbian porn."

"Must be." She gathered his precum on her palm and began to stroke him. Still in wonder of his abilities. "I think it's hot too. Who doesn't get off on pussy eating?"

His fingers slid inside her wet folds. Once his index and middle fingers were coated in her juice, he pulled his fingers from her and started to place them in her willing mouth before pulling them away and sucking them into his own. She raised an eyebrow at his maneuver. After a final lick, he asked: "Have you ever gotten off eating pussy, Cameron?"

Just to fuck with him for denying her one of her favorite activities, she avoided answering. "You know, I have a first name, _Don._ " But didn't stop stroking and encouraging his cock.

"Okay, _Allison_ , don't avoid the question. I know you like licking pussy juice off my face and my fingers. Do you like licking pussy juice off of a pussy?"

"I've had a threesome twice." His eyes widened at her admission. "I enjoyed the pussy eating part both times."

"Please tell me at least one of those times was with Thirteen."

"Okay. At least one of those times was with Thirteen."

With that lie, she'd made him rock hard and he was inside her again a second later, his head buried in her neckline. She was beginning to believe he was purposely avoiding eye contact during sex. The off times they would catch one another's look, it practically burned and their eyes would close or dart away. She was as reluctant as he was to make the encounters any more intense and certainly no more intimate. Whatever this was, it couldn't last, so best to enjoy it for what it was and not get entangled.

She flipped him over, turned herself and rode him reverse cowgirl. Grabbing his ankles she undulated her pelvis taking him in and out at languid pace. He sat up and pulled her to him, so he could latch onto her neck and leave his mark yet again. She had no idea how she'd cover them all when she had to return to work, but she wanted them all the same. He pinched her nipple and she gasped. His fingers found her clit and she moaned. Making love to him had consumed her. It felt like what she was born to do.

She wanted him to come inside her, but for once she didn't cave into her baser wants. She was learning his body and could feel his cock getting tighter. "You're close aren't you?"

"Yeah. God, I love how this feels. Being inside you like this. Oh… Allison... "

"Mmm, I want to finish you with my mouth, Greg. Would you like that?"

"Fuck yes, woman! And it's still Don." He pushed her up and she turned around quickly, sucking his wet dick into her mouth. She loved tasting herself on him. Loved the combined flavor of his precum mixed with hers. He was big, and she couldn't take it all in, but she came close and that made him come hard into her throat. His grunt was entirely satisfying. She nearly gagged, but managed, thanks to pride, to swallow every drop and then licked him clean.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but how could she? It would be pointless and only hurt them both more.

She crawled back up his body and collapsed on his chest. Both of them exhausted. He played with her hair, and she nearly cried. She had to get her mind off the feelings that were threatening to overtake her.

"So, it seems you are real after all," she joked.

"It took swallowing my load for you to figure that out?" He replied without missing a beat; his fingers still gently running through her golden locks.

"Nope. The call. My MRI results. I had a scan. I was afraid something was causing me to lose my connection with reality. The whole messaging thing. The sexting. I wasn't sure it was real. Actually, I'm a complete mess."

Her tears could no longer be restrained. He held her to his chest and kissed her head as she cried it out. "Hey, I know. That's part of why I came. I could tell you needed me."

It was only the second time in all the time she'd known House that he'd shown concern for her like another normal human being. The first time, she'd helped a man take his own life. Now she wasn't sure she could continue living the life she had.

"I drink. A lot. I get anywhere from drunk to wasted every night except the night I have Greg. Ray is determined to cut me out of the picture completely. He's just waiting for an angle his prick lawyers can use to take the last of my time away. I pick up random men a couple of times a month and fuck them at their place or cheap hotel rooms, or bar bathrooms just so I can get off from human contact. I throw myself into work because that's the one thing I have some sort of control over. I'm tired and alone and miserable and I don't even have one real friend to talk to about it. That's why I started writing you. I, for whatever reason, could always talk to you. You grounded me, somehow. I know it's crazy, but you did."

"Shh. I'm here now. We'll get you through this. If I could turn things around, you can. You're not half as fucked up as me. Not yet anyway. And you're way prettier."

He made her laugh. He always could. She wanted to ask him a million questions like "What are you trying to accomplish here? Why are you here when this, whatever this is, can't work?" But she couldn't ask. Not then, anyway. He said he'd be here until Friday. She would just pretend until then that they were a normal couple in their first week of honeymoon bliss. Friday could be the day of explanation. Monday was a good day for pretending this thing was something she could have.


	14. She Likes Him, Not Just the Color of His

**She Likes Him, Not Just the Color of His Eyes**

Tuesdays would never be quite normal for Cameron after Chase. Neither would the phrase "I like you." More than once she'd wondered what the result of her acting that pathetic with House once a week would have been. She's sure it would not have ended with a relationship. She had been into needy then. So, somehow, it seemed like a good enough substituted for the needy bastard she really wanted to need her.

Chase. God what a colossal fuck up she'd made of that. And she might deserve an oscar for convincing her own self that her reasons for leaving were noble. Honestly, she did need to get away from House. But not for the reasons she claimed. Working with him again had only reminded her that she loved him, wanted him, more than her own husband. House's lack of moral compass was an easy target for the blame and she took aim and shot a bullseye.

Cameron nodded to the owner of the little Bed and Breakfast as she refilled her coffee cup, then turned to House. "I'm glad you talked me into this. It's nice. I haven't had a real vacation in a long time." What was the point? She didn't have anyone to spend it with. Awkward family visits were her only breaks from work these days.

House had convinced her the night before, as she popped the cork on the third bottle of wine, that both of them would benefit from not being locked in her apartment all week. She wondered if he'd suddenly mastered the subtle hint, but then he handed her his glass to be filled and didn't blink when she filled her own.

He went on to explain that he was always worried about random encounters with people who might know him in large cities. He had former colleagues in most the major hospitals in Chicago. Been to conferences there many times as a speaker (yet another thing he resented Cuddy for).

And, of course, the massive numbers of cameras everywhere in the modern world. Not just security, but nearly every person had a smartphone pointing it around documenting every sip of coffee, every plate of food, every random thing of interest might inadvertently catch him in the background and be seen by a friend of a friend of a friend that knew Gregory House.

Compounding those factors with wandering around with someone he'd known from his old life made the odds of something happening while they were out together that could blow his cover far too high. He liked his new life. He wanted to keep it.

Not long into an internet search, they found the little farmhouse B and B out in the Indiana countryside, somewhere between Gary and Roselawn. They drove there after breakfast Tuesday morning and made it by lunch. Though it wasn't part of the 'internet package' for the first day, they arrived to find food prepared for them. Full country breakfast for lunch. Cameron wasn't sure if that qualified it as a brunch. Somehow the term seemed pretentious in this setting.

Their hostess, Margaret, was a stocky woman in her mid-sixties who dressed in jeans and flannel with her once dark hair, now half grey pulled back in a ponytail. Margaret was the kind of gal that could chop her own wood or stack a literal ton of hay bales. She worked what was left of her husband's family farm alone.

Most the fields she'd rented out to neighboring farms for income, save the south forty where she still farmed soy and raised a small stock of sheep and a few cattle. Around the farmhouse, she had a henhouse and made breakfast with eggs from her own chickens. With it she served thick cut bacon and brewed Folgers coffee in a percolator that looked like it could have been left to her from her own grandmother.

She took to 'Donny' immediately as his Jesus look apparently reminded her of her late husband, who'd died in a farming accident when he was around House's age. House laid on a layer of charm he normally reserved for working girls, ass pinching and all, and coaxed out Margaret's true nature, rather than one she might normally put on for company. Taking him in, her language quickly became coarse and laced with, as Spock might say, "colorful metaphors." And she teased him like they'd know each other their whole lives.

He loved every minute of it.

Cameron had never known this side of House. She liked him this way. Honestly, she liked him any way he came. She definitely liked him when he was coming inside of her. With that thought, she blushed while she sipped coffee and observed him affectionately over the rim of the cup.

"Better watch out Donny boy. Ally's got bedroom eyes." Margaret teased him with a nudge of her hip to his shoulder as she refilled his cup.

He smiled. Allison found him ridiculously charming in his flannel top that he'd bought at Wal-mart along the way so he'd 'blend in', his longish yet uncombed hair poking out from a green John Deer cap. She even loved his currently brown eyes. "You know, Marge, she's into threesomes. So maybe we both need to be careful."

"Ah, g'on now. Hush! Pretty girl like her isn't likely to have a granny fetish, but the likes of you… no tellin' what kind of nasty shit a son of a bitch like you might like. I've already locked up the sheep." Cameron snorted up her coffee. It burned like all hell, but she couldn't stop laughing. House wasn't far behind with a belly laugh the likes of which she'd never heard from him. Ever.

All the while, Margaret was the picture of calm and serious. "It's not funny. Little Anne is a trollop and if she caught wind of Don Juan here, she'll be battin' those big round brown eyes right back at his and tossin' on her harness. You might never get 'im back."

Sucking in air, and straightening her hair, Allison did her best to compose herself, but broke down again as soon as she made eye contact with House, whose eyes sparkled back at her even through his brown contacts. It's funny, she sometimes wondered if the whole attraction thing was because of his blue eyes, but his looks still conveyed every undercurrent of emotion in dark shades of brown.

Later in the day, they stood by the picture window in the living room. It had snowed heavily early in the morning and white stretched out for as far as the eye could see. "Let's build a couple of snowmen." He suggested in her ear as she leaned into his chest and enjoyed how he freely wrapped himself around her, showing her an affection she'd always wanted from him.

"Okay. Think Margaret has some dressing for them?"

"Oh, I bet that old bird has all kinds of stuff around here. Wonder if she has some sex toys? We could make them anatomically correct. Ooohhh, we could make them having sex with each other… or maybe a snow-sheep!"

"God… you're like a 12-year-old boy."

He hugged her to him and kissed her temple. "You love it though."

She had no idea what to say to that. She did love it. She loved him. Her arms were wrapped around his in a way she could feel his pulse quicken as she stood there silently — his words still hanging in the air. It almost made her think he might mean something by them, but she couldn't risk her own heart any more than she was.

With a sigh, she turned and smiled. "Let's go ask… just not about the sex toys."

"Spoilsport."

Margaret did have all the traditional trimmings around and they built two very dashing snowmen and decided to call them Patrick and Ian, since they seemed to look like they might have a bit of a bromance between them. Afterward, they played in the snow like kids, tossing balls and making snow angels. That is until House had a muscle spasm in his bad leg that quickly ended their perfect moment.

Lucky for them, Margaret was a stout woman and used to having to do heavy lifting around the farm. Cameron couldn't have gotten him back in the house otherwise. When Margaret asked what had happened with his leg, he just muttered out "war wound" and she took it a face value, though Cameron knew it was from a war of a completely different sort.

The pain became so bad he passed out.

"Hey, there. Welcome back." Cameron said in soft voice as she held his hand and observed him from her seat on the edge of the bed. "I tried to find you something for the pain, but you didn't have anything in your bag stronger than Advil."

"Yeah… I promised Wilson. I do regular P.T. now too. I guess I've been neglecting my routine in favor of sex." She looked instantly guilty, although she knew he was joking. "Hey, now. It wasn't that. It was the cold and rolling the snowmen. I haven't been out in the cold for that long in years. Much less pushing around a giant snowball."

"I thought you seemed to be moving better, but I didn't pay any attention to what kind of pills you were popping. I just assumed Vicodin, I guess. It's not like you generally came off as being high…"

"Yeah. Look, I know, you know, that House never did well with… sympathy, so before I forget that Don Johnson is not nearly as big a bastard as his predecessor, maybe you could give me a few minutes alone to get up and stretch out. Then we can go on with our sex-cation because this really isn't that big of a deal."

She could see he needed his space and, though she wanted to take care of him, she respected that his request. "Okay. I'll be downstairs. Margaret is putting up her Christmas tree. I offered to help."

She stood and walked to the door as she was closing it, he called out. "Save the topper. I want to see your stunning little ass as you tip-toe on the ladder to put it on the tree."

A half-hour later, House wandered out of the bedroom and took a seat by the fire. The women had the tree placed in front of the window and were busy adorning it. "I see you're back in the land of the living." Margaret called to him which caused he and Cameron to share a knowing glance.

"So it would seem. You got any bourbon in this place?" He was still in pain. Both women could see it, but neither showed him pity. "Got something better. How d'ya feel 'bout moonshine?"

House smirked and his eyes sparkled. "I think you're a very naughty lady, Marg. Santa is going to leave you extra coal this year for sure."

"Ha! Good. Coal prices have been high as hell this year," she puts down her bobble and heads to the kitchen talking all the way. "Besides, I'll just leave him a little snort in his eggnog. It's a cold trip. Helps keep 'im warm." A minute later, she is back with a coffee mug with a three finger pour. "Careful. This is the high octane stuff. I'd offer to cut it with something, but you don't strike me as the type."

He nodded and took a sip, his eyebrows raised in in approval of the harsh burn. "That'll either kill the pain or kill me." With that, he took another more normal drink, now that his expectations had been set.

Cameron could feel his eyes on her as she stretched and bent while decorating the tree. Marge let her top it off. House whistled and catcalled. Afterward, she joined him on the sofa, by the fireplace, curling up and enjoy the glow of the flames and the newly lit tree.

"I've gotta feed the livestock. I'll be back in a half hour or so. Try not to get into too much trouble and don't do anything I wouldn't do," she winked. Donning her heavy coat and high mud boots, she headed out the door and jumped on her ATV to head toward the barn on the south forty.

As soon as they heard the vehicle pull away their hands began to wander, and lips began to kiss. She gave him a look of concern as she climbed into his lap. She'd not given his leg any thought during sex until now. He waved off her look and pulled her down onto his hardening cock. "This isn't what hurts. I forgot my limits today. This—" he pushed against her through the layers of jean "this only feels good."

She took him at his word and began unbuttoning the flannel shirt, revealing a more familiar red graphic tee underneath. His chest was warm and firm under her hands, his lips soft under her own. He tasted like alcohol and she liked it just a little too much as she sucked his tongue into her mouth and ground herself against the growing bulge in his jeans.

"We really should go to the bedroom." She protested weakly, with no real intention of leaving the couch.

"We really should do a lot of things, but it's more fun to do the things we shouldn't." He replied and pulled her sweater and camisole over her head together and had her bra following closely behind. "Motherhood suits your boobs. I would have liked to have sucked them while you were still nursing." He emphasized his lude confession by demonstrating before continuing "It's always been something I've wanted to try. Since my mother denied me the pleasure."

"Yeah, no way you were breastfed. Oh fuck, baby, that's good. Mmmm just like that!" She moaned as his mouth latched onto her left tit and suckled gently.

"Like that? I bet I can make you come just from sucking on your nipples. But don't think we have the time right now, unless you really do want to get caught fucking on Marge's couch."

Cameron laughed and shook her head. "No, not on the agenda for today."

"Get up and take your pants off, go grab a condom, then get back here and fuck me. We don't have all day." He ordered with a smack to her ass and watched her get up, drop her pants and then run to the bedroom to fetch the condoms they'd wisely decided to purchase on their way here. They'd been a little buzzed and a little stupid when he'd quickly run out at her place.

She was right, he couldn't wear normal sized condoms with any level of comfort and the one time they tried, it killed his boner. She'd never gone back on the pill after her bad episode with them. Why bother figuring out if another kind worked? She didn't have a regular lover. She wasn't so out of it she'd not use a condom with a stranger. She'd always been on the pill with her steady boyfriends, which is how she managed to forget the condom with Ray, having been used to condom free sex with him.

The dangerous game of pull and pray was something she'd never done with another man before House. Grand plans for her to hit the drugstore after breakfast on Monday were forgotten when breakfast turned to sex play. They did it on a whim like horny teenagers playing with fire. Of course, they liked it and did it again. Many times, in fact.

She trusted him. She had not idea why. As a doctor, she knew better than to think the method was safe but she wanted — no — _needed_ to feel him raw. Needed to know what he felt like skin on skin. She was frightened by how much she craved for him to come inside her.

Having a child with House was about the worst idea in the history of humanity. At least within the confines of whatever 'relationship', for lack of a better term, they were currently engaged in. He would call it a matter of biology. They were compelled to breed because of compatible pheromones. She knew it was more than that. If he didn't stop himself, she would have let him.

Lucky for her, he had more willpower.

On Tuesday morning, soberer and less horny, they'd wisely decided to get a big ass box of Magnums on the way out of town and he seemed determined to be a good boy and use them.

She returned from her condom retrieving mission to find he was now naked, sitting on his t-shirt to protect Margaret's couch. With a wink, she dropped to her knees and rolled the condom on him with her mouth. He grunted his approval, then tugged on her arm to get her to sit on him again.

This time she dared to look him in the eye as she sank on him, hoping the color change would shield her from the intimacy. The feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she'd hoped in vain. But neither of them could look away this time. His demeanor changed. With his hands on her hips he slowed her strokes — forced her to make love to him. She didn't protest. His eyes told her everything — his fear, his pain, his longing. She was sure she even saw love there. She kissed him, and even the kiss was different. Reverent, slow, tender, satisfying.

Their bodies and eyes told each other the story that they couldn't put in words. They were on borrowed time, and they knew it. "I want you to come with me, Allison. I want you to look at me while we come." She could only bite her lip and nod as his thumb found her clit and their pace increased. Their gazes were fixed, both refusing to even blink. When their release came he shed a single tear, and she kissed it away, sure both their hearts were breaking.

Their evening plans of wandering around a small town to do a little shopping and having and drink and a meal in public together were buried under two feet of snow. The snow plows didn't come out this far for sometimes days after a big snow. The Camry House had rented, and insisted they drive so he wasn't seen in her car, wasn't going anywhere in this mess. If they'd been wise they'd have looked at the weather report before leaving. Neither one, however, were known for being wise.

Margaret was under no obligation to feed them more than breakfast, but being the friendly country sort she was, had already feed them lunch and offered a simple home cooked dinner as well. When Cameron tried to pay her extra she gave the younger woman a death glare and told her to put her money back in her pocketbook.

There wasn't much in the form of entertainment at the farm home. She lived too far out in the middle of nowhere to have cable or internet service. Cameron wondered how the hell her place managed to get onto the internet rental site. She did have an antenna that pulled in the local channels for the major three networks, though CBS tended to be fuzzy more often than not.

Cameron was reminded of her father's parents' home. It had been like that growing up. And she'd spent many summer weekends with them, playing board games and exploring outside. It was a nice departure from the city life she was accustomed to now.

The one silver lining was she turned her phone on to find it had a few bars of cell phone reception, though the idea of 4g or even 3g was completely out of the question. She could at least call Greg from her own number later to tuck him in, which would hopefully keep Ray from asking questions she had no desire to answer.

After dinner, Cameron cleared the table and House helped do dishes. Cameron watched his easy way with Margaret while performing this menial chore and thought about all the times she'd imagined what it might be like to live with House. Would he be the same asshole he was at work, ordering her around expecting her to clean up after him? Or maybe he was different there. He did manage to live with a professional woman for five years and Cameron could not imagine Stacy taking orders and cleaning up his shit. Stacy had confirmed he had always been a jerk, but she'd said it in a way that make Cameron think it wasn't that cut and dry.

He did the work as if he'd done it a million times before. Washing as Margaret dried and put things away. He joked and splashed her a couple of times. She grabbed the sprayer once and nailed him right in the face. Cameron wondered if he was like this with his mother as a boy.

It was so entirely domestic and so far from the House she'd worked with. Had he always been like this? Had Wilson's death changed him? Was the answer maybe not so cut and dry? She gave up on the train of thought and resided once again to simply enjoy the moment while she had it. After finishing cleaning the table, she snuck off into the bedroom to call Greg.

Ray, of course, answered the phone. "Hey. I called your work early to ask you something. They said you had some sort of family emergency. I tried your cell and didn't get an answer. You okay? Your folks okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned and she hated him for it. She hated work for telling him her business, when she'd made it clear, more than once, that they should just take a message and be as vague as possible when it came to calls from her ex-husband.

She wasn't sure what lie to spin having not thought that far ahead. Her parents were still close enough to Ray that she couldn't involve them in the lie. So she decided to pepper the truth with just enough of a lie to make the whole thing work. "You remember I told you my old friend stopped by?"

"Yeah. Jesus guy… Don, I think you said."

"Yeah. Well he came to visit me because of his mother. She's sick and none of her doctors can figure out why. She's been to every specialist and expert in her hometown and they've come up blank. She's refusing to drive into the city to a bigger hospital. He asked me to visit her in her home as a favor to him. He helped me get my first job with House, and well, I felt I owed him and I had a ton of leave built up. She lives out in the middle of nowhere Indiana in a senior living facility. So we drove down last night. Now it looks like we might be stuck here for a while. There's like two feet of snow outside.

"Oh. Okay. Where are you staying?" Now there was the Ray she knew with a hint of jealousy and accusation in his tone.

"With his Aunt Margaret. She's got a little sheep farm just outside Roselawn. Big farm house, lots of empty room to put us up. Anyway, I didn't want to worry you with it. Work shouldn't have mentioned it. What did you need?"

He sighed. "Nothing major, well, actually it's sort of major. Little Greg seems to have misplaced Stuart. I was just calling to see if he'd left him at your place."

Cameron's heart sank for the boy and she kicked herself for being so distracted as to let him forget his stuffed animal. "Oh. Is he okay?"

"He had a bit of a meltdown at nap time today, but we got through it. I hated it for him, but he'd acted like it was no big deal Sunday night and Monday. I thought it's probably a sign he's ready for us to start weaning him off Stuart, but things have been up and down today. If you have an idea where he is… I'm sure Greg would sleep better tonight."

Cameron thought back to the last time she remembered Greg having Stuart. "He had him at breakfast on Sunday. I thought I packed him, but I was distracted, so he might still be in Greg's room at my place." She did a quick mental inventory of how she and House left the place and knew that there was too much chance they'd left evidence of their two-day sexcapades for her to suggest Ray go look for it there. He didn't have a key, but she could call the door man and have them let him in. However, the safer bet was to have her next door neighbor look. She fed the lady's cats now and again and she'd babysat for Cameron a few times when Cameron had been in a pinch. She knew what Stuart looked like.

"I'll call Jane as soon as I hang up with Greg. She can pop over and look. If she finds him, I'll have her leave him with the doorman and I'll let you know either way."

"Thanks. I hope you can help your friend's mother. Here's Little Greg." The phone went silent for a moment then her favorite little voice piped in.

"Hey Mommy! Have you seen Stuart? He's lost and I miss him."

"No honey. Mommy's not at home right now, but she's sending Miss Jane over to see if she can find him for you."

"Okay. I hope he's safe and not scared being all alone and lost."

"I'm sure he's fine and I know he misses you too. You know, that as we get older, we all have to learn to sleep on our own sometimes. It can be scary, but you're growing up and I know you'll be okay. Just remember that Daddy is in the next room and he's always kept you safe. And he can call Mommy if you want to talk to me."

"I know. I… I just don't want 'im to be scared is all. I have Daddy, but he's all alone."

"Stuart is a guard dog. He can take care of himself. I'm sure he'll have a great adventure to tell you once we find him."

"Tink so?"

"Yeah, baby. I think so. I love you. It's time for bed now, so be brave and sleep well."

"Okay, Mommy. Love you too. Bye bye."

"Bye sweety." She hung up before Ray has a chance to say anything more and dialed Jane. Five minutes later the search for Stuart was over and she could breathe easy. Or she hoped she could. No crisis was a small crisis for her these days. She never knows what might trigger another court date with Ray. House wandered into the bedroom as she hung up with Ray for the second time. She rummaged through her bag and pulled the flask of vodka she'd stowed there and took a big swig.

"Trouble in paradise?" He asks, as he looks on at her with concerned eyes, but says nothing about her drinking. Instead, he takes the flask and takes a drink to match as she explains the situation back home.

"Stuart, Greg's security teddy, which you met during breakfast, was left at my place. Apparently, he was okay for a while, but after two nights of not knowing where he was Greg freaked out a little. Ray decided to call me at work to see if he was at my place. Then work told him I had a family emergency so I had to weave an elaborate tale about your sick mother that no one can diagnose and how your lovely Aunt Margaret was putting us up."

"Your lying has improved. House would have been proud."

"And you?"

"I like to think I'm not quite the same level of asshole as my predecessor. I'm impressed with everything about you."

"I like you, Dr. Johnson."

"I like you, Dr. Cameron."


	15. Marge's Cookie Jar

**Marge's Cookie Jar**

Wednesday morning Margaret was up in the wee hours. By 9:00 when Cameron woke, Margaret had the tractor out, the plow hitched and the long driveway out to the state highway cleared. The livestock had been fed and she was finishing House and Cameron's breakfast.

"Mornin' hon." Margaret called back to Cameron as she walked up to the coffee pot and helped herself. The snow storm made them more familiar and less like guests. "Donny boy still gettin' in his beauty sleep?"

"Yeah. Unless sex is involved, he's not a fan of mornings."

"He'd be shit on a farm. I imagine that's no surprise. What is it ya'll do for a livin'"

"We're both medical doctors. Don works in a lab studying infectious diseases, I lead a diagnostics department."

"Well, I'm not shocked you're a smart a successful career gal, but I was guessing Don, hell I dunno, wounded vet? Living on a government pension with his hot younger sugar mamma, paying her in sex—"

"Marge," House cut in as he walked into the room. "I'm shocked. But, honestly, if Allison was willing, I'm a modern-minded man with a willing and able cock."

Cameron rolls her eyes, "Honestly, you two… Why buy the bull when I can milk him for free?" She winks at him, then pinches his ass as he steps up to the counter to pour his own mug of coffee. He smacks her hand away playfully, telling her "I'm not an object!" in a girly voice. "Besides," she continues while helping set the table "Don, despite his willingness to be used, would bore of life as a toy-boy. He needs complex puzzles to solve or he becomes impossible to live with. He's actually the most brilliant person I know." She ends sincerely and is shocked when it earned her a peck on the cheek.

* * *

The deep snow still stretched as far as Cameron could see from the picture window in Margaret's living room. The only disturbance in the vast surface being the plowed drive and the path to the barn. The colored lights from the Christmas tree blinked in her periphery as she sipped another cup of coffee and wondered just how long it would take the state to clear the main road this far out in the middle of nowhere.

She heard someone enter the room and glanced over. "Oh, god. What did you do?" She asked suspiciously as House hop walked, sans cane, into the living room of the farmhouse, a shit eating grin on his face and both hands behind his back.

"Marge has been holding out on us." He pulled his hand from behind him to reveal two rather large chocolate chip cookies, one in each hand.

"Jesus, Don." She groaned. "Don't steal the woman's cookies."

"But Moooom…" he limped forward and put a cookie right under her nose "they smell sooooo good."

Her brows furrowed as she sniffed and asked vaguely "Is that...?" Sure what she just smelled was marijuana.

"Yep. Seems illegal hooch is not all she's making on this farm." House was still giddy. "After I found these, I did some snooping around and the basement door was locked. I put my ear to it and I'm sure I heard the hum of a bay of lights. I think she has a grow-room down there."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he beamed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Fucking cool. Got your lock picking set on you? Keeping your chops up or has being boss made you lose your touch?"

One hand found her hip, her coffee mug still held in front of her chest by the other. Defiantly she declared, "I'm not performing a B and E on our host, House."

"Dead. You've gotta stop doing that. Seriously, what if the fuzz busts this place and you're all House this and House that." He jokes, but she can see past it and knows he doesn't want her to use his name from his former life. It's hard for her when Don so obviously becomes House again.

"Sorry, Don. Not gonna do it. And put her cookies back before she figures out you've snooped."

"No way." He shakes his head. "We're eating these puppies. Don't worry. I tossed forty bucks in Marge's cookie jar. And when she comes home to find us high, she'll know we're not likely to rat her out, because it'll prove we're evil drug users just like her." He lets out a maniacal laugh before bitting a huge chunk out of one cookie.

Cameron's eyes widen and she yell whispers looking over House's shoulder. "Or she gets out a shotgun to kick us the fuck out of her house."

"Na. Marge loves me." He says confidently as he takes another, less aggressive bite.

"Yeah. We'll see after she finds you high on her cash crop."

"Us high." He invades her space and she is forced to put her coffee mug to her side. "You're getting high with me and having high sex with me." Leaning his head so his lips nearly touch hers, he continues softly, teasing her. "Slow. Wet. High. Sex. A body buzz is the best."

She stared up at him, like she used to, as if he'd somehow shocked her, even though she wasn't surprised at all. He pushed out his lower lip. "Come on, don't give me Dr. Cameron face. You know you want it as much as I do. I thought you'd lost your moral compass. That you wanted a week of hedonism. You know you wanna get high with me. Know what it's like to _fuck_ me high."

She never could say no to him. He knew the millisecond her resolve caved. He leaned in to kiss her and as soon as her lips parted he pulled back and shoved the second cookie in her mouth.

* * *

It _was_ slow, and wet, and dirty, and overwhelming. It was mind-blowing. His tongue was taking what seemed like hours tasting every inch of her. He'd found some old neckties and belts in the closet which he used to tie her to the bed, blindfold and gag her. The resulting torture was delicious. The moment he found her clit she nearly came off the bed.

Good thing she was tied to it.

"Fuck yeah baby. Come again like that for me. See, I told you. Told you how good it feels this way." He resumed his feast all the while she writhed at the mercy of his mouth. He flattened his tongue and rubbed it slowly up and down her clit over and over with the occasional flick with the tip or kiss with his soft lips. His beard grazed against her folds sinfully. The dip of his fingers inside her was as magnificent as it was torturous, especially when his tongue was added back in, slowly stroking her pleasure center.

He stopped for a moment. She whimpered at the loss but soon felt his legs move around her head. His balls grazed her forehead. "I'm going to ungag you now. Don't scream." She nodded yes, desperately. He took off the gag and a second after gagged her again with his dick.

He leaned over her body on all fours and fucked her mouth while his tongue resumed its clitoral onslaught. She fought against the restraints and pressed her clit against his tongue. He raised his head and denied her. "I love how much you love the way I fuck you. God, Allison! You are so wet and you taste" he sucks her clit slowly and licks her again "so fucking good, baby. I love it."

She loved him. She'd tell him so, but his luscious cock was in her mouth. It felt amazing to suck on him. There was a need for oral fixation with this particular buzz. She can't remember ever being so into a 69 where she was on the bottom. And she was extremely into it — into him being inside her mouth. The acts of sucking and licking were incredibly satisfying in that moment.

He made her come again, but her moans were stifled by his thrusting into her mouth and a moment later by him shooting his load down her throat. He used her and she loved it — wanted to be used more by him.

His cock slipped from between her lips and his body left hers for a moment. She sighed. His weight repositioned to one side of her as he removed the blindfold and started working on the ligatures around her wrist. He looked down at her with a wide smile. His eyes sparkled and she was pleased that the side effect of dry-eyes from the pot had caused him to take his contacts out for their session. She had only gotten a glimpse of the blue pools before he'd covered her eyes. The way they looked at her in that moment made her feel complete.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked — her smile matching his. He finished untieing her arms and laid on his side looking at her.

His answer was "You."

His smile turned to a snicker. Confused by his sudden laughter, she asked "What?"

"I'm just thinking of the faces you make when I make you come." The comment was free of his normal sarcasm. He was a normal guy in that moment, enjoying her enjoying him.

She laughed, thinking about the way his own face contorted into pained expressions before relaxing in release. They'd shared this most intimate moment with one another — become completely undone by the other. They could make the other free, if for just a moment, from all the ways life had kicked the shit out of both of them.

As he laughed with her, and pulled her into an embrace, a sharp knock came through the bedroom door. "Glad you kids are having a good time with Auntie Margaret's cookies. You know, you probably spoiled your dinner."

"Sorry Marge!" House called out, snickering the whole time.

"Yeah, _sure_ " she answered back like a mother might an unruly teenager, even though he was more of an age to be her brother. ' _He really does have her under his spell_ ,' Cameron thought as she tried to contain her giggles at their banter. "They've finally cleared the main road. Ya should be able t' get into town tonight. But I don't s'pect much will be open in the way of restaurants 'side from fast food."

"Is that your way of inviting us for dinner again?" Cameron inquired.

"Only if you promise to not eat me out of house and home."

"But I have the munchies!" House whined back.

Cameron snickered and said a little louder than she meant to "I imagine you'll find something else to munch on in the meantime."

Margaret snorted and shouted through the door. "Allison Cameron! I do believe Donny's fully corrupted you."

"Sorry, Margie!" Cameron replies in a sing-song cadence, joining in on their fun.

"Just keep 'im away from the sheep!"

With that she left them howling in laughter which resulted in a tickle fight. They were acting like teenagers in love. They were Romeo and Juliet just before their world caved in around them.

When the laughter subsided and they rested once more on their sides smiling eye to eye, she found the courage to ask "What are we doing?"

He evaded. "Lying in bed, high as kites, enjoying the afterglow." He wanted to live in the bubble a little while longer. She couldn't say she blamed him. She never wanted to leave, but it was time they addressed the elephant in the room.

"You know what I mean. What is this?"

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling, juggling air cheek to cheek. With a sharp gust he exhaled and said "You saved me; in that burning building. Ever since I've wondered if I could have avoided so much of the bullshit over the last ten years if I would have just kept my mouth shut on our date and instead taken you home and given in to you. _This_ is me figuring out that letting you try to fix me might not have been such a bad thing. _This_ is me thinking if nothing else comes of this week, we can at least not die without knowing what it felt like."

Maybe it was because she was high, but his words didn't make her cry. She was instead curious what he meant when he said she saved him. "How did I save you? I hadn't even seen you for over two years before you died."

"You're going to love this. I assume you heard I'd gone there to get high on heroin. I figured 'Fuck it,' Wilson had refused to help me out. God, the whole situation was ridiculous anyway. Un-fucking-believable that flushing a packet of fucking tickets would fuck my parole all to hell. My last patient was a heroin addict. I thought I couldn't cure him and, for whatever crazy reason when we thought he would die, he offered to take the fall for me. I guess he figured in some small way taking the fall for me would give the last bit of his life some type of meaning. But just as I was ready to walk out of the room I had to notice that his neck wasn't symmetrical."

"He gave me this way out. He didn't care if he lived or died. He just wanted to go out high and maybe do a good deed on the way. But then I knew what was wrong with him. The neck was the final piece of the puzzle. I cured him just to prove I knew. Because I couldn't _not_ place the final piece and hold up the answer for all to see."

"You couldn't let him die when you knew could save him."

"Yeah," he said softly. Then resumed his normal demeanor. "So anyway, that's not the funny bit. So he's cured. I'm fucked. He's like, 'you should just come with me and get high. Forget about it all.'"

"So I did. We got blitz. The place catches fire. I start coming down, but I'm still mostly high. He's dead. The place is in flames and Amber's there."

"Oh, nice. She's always a sign you're in for an adventure."

"Yeah, so basically I have this whole A-Christmas-Carol-ghosts style hallucination. The various parts of my personality taking on people from my past and trying to work out if I should just give up and die or find a way out and face the colossal fuck up that was my life. So it was Amber, Kutner made a short appearance, then there was Stacy..."

"And I take it I was there."

"Yeah." He swallowed, still staring at the ceiling. He added softly. "You were the one that told me I should just give up and die."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. Reaching out she stroked his forearm. "Your brain chose _me_ to tell you to give up and die? But I'd want you to live. Fight. I…"

"Yeah. I said 'I thought you'd be the last one to hate me,' then you said 'I don't hate you. I love you.'"

He turned his head and looked at her. Still on her side she met his look and told him "You are always right about me. It pisses me off eighty-percent of the time, but…" He rolled onto his side and gave her a gentle kiss.

His hand cupped her face. His thumb traced over her lips. "You were the ghost that made me realize that I wasn't completely lost. That I did have something good in me worth saving. You took me back to when I saved my last patient. You made me face why I really saved him, rather than myself. Even though I knew he was just going to walk out the door and do the job himself. Turns out it was much sooner than I imagined and it almost killed me too. Then again, part of me did want to O.D. and die while high as a kite, because the only way I thought I could be happy was when it was artificially induced. Wilson was the last thing I was living for. If he didn't want me, then I didn't want to live."

A tear leaked from her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. She kissed his palm and told him "I'm glad you decided you were being an idiot."

"Yeah. That was all you. Or the part of my brain that you infected with your faith in me. That convinced me I could change."

"I'm glad that it wasn't just you that infected _my_ brain. This is probably the weed talking, but I've starting thinking we're like yin and yang. Too much light or too much dark is a bad thing. There needs to be a balance and I think I got that from you and without you I let myself be consumed by the vacuum. I think _you_ got just enough balance from Wilson, so you didn't need me before as much as I needed you. Now, maybe, you need me because you've lost balance too."

He rolled his eyes at her waxing philosophic, but she could see behind them that he found some truth to it. "I lied when I said Wilson wanted to come see you. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed it. And not that he probably didn't want to have sex with you. I told him what I saw in the building. He told me I'd already ruined Cuddy's life and my life by letting a hallucination of a woman saving me from myself convince me I was in love with her. I had my chance with you. I let it pass. You were married. Had a kid... And yes, I got a perverse pleasure from you being forced to name him Greg. I heard from Chase before everything that happened."

"You would."

"I did. But you seemed happy from all accounts and so I thought I should listen to Wilson for once in my life and just let you be happy. The Cameron that saved me was made up by my brain, after all. You weren't really there. So, I went on with my life, alone. Away from people I cared about enough to not want to hurt. Seems like I hurt everyone I care about. But then I read your messages. You weren't happy. I thought maybe I could help for once. I don't know why, but I need you to be happy."

"You know why. I know why. We just don't want to say it because we know that this whole thing is too complicated to ever work. Being with you, like this, I want it so badly, but you can't show up to my next family dinner. I can't run off with you and leave Greg. It's hard enough only having him one day a week. I can't abandon him."

She was on the verge of crying again. So he smiled and joked with a shrug of the shoulders. "So bring him. He seems like a cool enough kid. I can break him of that nasty Jesus habit for you too."

It had the desired effect and she returned his smile. "Don Johnson, are you inviting me to run away with you?"

He looked down in mock contemplation. "I guess I kinda am." And then he was off on one of his excited little boy tangents. "We'd be like Bonnie and Clyde. Or rather Bonnie, Clyde and Clyde Junior. How's Little Greg with a tommy gun?"

This earns him a laugh and Cameron leans in and kisses him. "You're still nuts, you know that?"

"Yeah. But you like my nuts." He quips.

Eyebrows raised she admits, "Well, as nuts go they are rather nice. I mean, they're nuts, so kind of odd looking by nature, but I do like the way they smack against my ass when you fuck me hard."

Grabbing her ass he pulls her into him with a thrust of his hips, despite his penis not being fully recovered. "If I were your age, I'd fuck you hard again right now. But, unless you have some Viagra stowed away in that big ass bag of yours, I think Little Don is officially on break for at least an hour."

"No worries." She took his hand, put a finger in her mouth and sucked it. "You still have a mouth. Lesbians get by without hard-ons all the time."

"Damn. Well, when you put it that way. Did you remember to pack Little Don's clone?"


	16. Greg House

_AN: Something scary happened this week and without going into details I would like to say that I am so very blessed to still have my friend and beta atavares with me. I know we are thousands of miles apart in distance, but you are always close to my heart. And, though you have a long journey ahead of you, I am glad I can still be a part of that journey._

 _She a big reason I write on a regular basis now so all of my readers should give a shout of thanks out to her as well. For my part, I want to thank her for just being her as much as I thank her for keeping me on the path with my writing. The stories are just the vehicle. Our friendship is dear to me._

 _And to my reviewers, I don't even remember if I was able to write anyone back since the last update. It's not from a lack of appreciation. Real life is more important sometimes and I had one of those weeks. Thanks to all of you for your words of encouragement. They are appreciated!_

* * *

 **Greg House**

The drive back on Friday morning was quiet. Between the snow muting the sound of everything and their lack of conversation, it seemed like the only sound in the world might be that of the car's heater.

They'd had their fun. Even spent most of the day Thursday dreaming up a lovely little scenario in which she would steal away Little Greg, run off into the sunset with House and they'd live happily ever after. The End.

He'd shown her his real self. The part he saved for Wilson. The part he had once shared with Stacy and, for a short time, Cuddy. Now that she'd tasted it, she was even more sure she would never be happy without him. She'd been completely happy for the first time since she could remember, but that happiness was fading away more every mile closer they came to Chicago.

An hour into the journey, he was the first to break the silence. "I meant it, you know. All the joking aside. If you wanted to run away with me, I could make it work, get you both a new identity and passport. I think it could work. We could work."

She stared out the window and sighed. He sounded hopeful. The House she'd known from before never sounded _hopeful_. It broke her heart to have to have the roles reversed and be the one who had to crush the hope for once in their relationship.

"I do love you; you know that. But you know it could never really work. I can't just leave without a trace — steal my son from his own father. And even if I had the… I dunno… guts? Or screws loose to really consider it, Greg is a smart kid and he's just old enough to ask all the questions we'd rather he didn't. And, he loves Ray." She pauses for a moment to consider their relationship, before conceding that "Ray, despite being completely wrong for me, is a good father to Greg. And what about _my_ parents? We're not super close, but it would kill my mother if I disappeared."

House huffed, "Greg is also young enough to believe a well-crafted lie and young enough he'll forget most of everything that's happened to him thus far. As far as parents go, I told my mother. Can't you trust your mom and dad?"

"Mom!?" She let out a cross between a sigh and a ha. "Not with this. She could never condone my taking Greg from his family."

Cameron paused for a moment and thought about her father. He wasn't exactly the kind of Dad that little girls grow up and write love songs about. Not that he was a bad person. He was a depressed person. An 'if only this had happened, then I would have been' person. The guy that sits at the local bar with his high school letterman jacket on every Friday to watch the local sports recap and talk about how when he was quarterback they were primed for the state championships, if only he hadn't dislocated his shoulder things could have been blah blah…

He did, however, hate the earth that Ray walked on. He also was the one person who, for better or for worse, told her it was obvious she wanted her boss. And that she should stop being a 'pussy' and just ask him out already. Given the aftermath of their date, he also had a love-hate opinion of the man he knew held the keys to his little girl's heart. On the one hand "the dirty old gimp" was a good guy for not wanting to drag Cameron down with him. On the other, he was "an idiot" for not letting Cameron love him.

"My father is an ass, but strangely, I think he'd be the one person who'd be okay with it. He hated Ray from the start. Then again, my father has hated all my husbands."

"Even more reason for me to steal away with you under cover of night. I've never been the kind of man other men dream of for their little girls."

"Oh, he'd like you," Allison assures House, who glances at her with a little frown. "He's that fucked up." She winks back. "Mom would probably want me to have an intervention. If you think I'm too nice, you'd have a field day with her."

His eyes stayed glued to the road and she could tell he was about to lose his mask. His voice was quiet as he finally spoke. "I'm sorry I'll never get to meet them. I'm sorry about a lot of things."

* * *

She dropped her bags at the front door with a sigh. He closed the door and pulled her around into his chest, facing him. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried. "Hey, now." He cooed and placed a kiss on her head. "We have one more night before I have to go. You can still call me on the burner phone. I can't stay, but we could do this again in a few months if you wanted to."

She sobbed harder. He sighed, "Or I can leave now. Maybe this was a stupid idea. I… I don't know what I was thinking. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wish you could be happy without me, but for whatever reason, you're just as fucked up as I am. I feel like it's my fault."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you don't get to claim the glory for it. You were right. I'm damaged. I'm drawn to other damaged people. You are the only one who understands that. I didn't even really believe it until recently."

He lifted her chin and kissed her tear stained cheeks. "Even covered in snot, you are still the prettiest piece of lobby art I've ever laid eyes on."

She laughed and looked around for the box of tissues she kept on the coffee table. He let her go, so she could compose herself. A few moments later she was leading him by the hand to her bedroom. She only had a few more hours and she planned on spending them loving him.

"Be Greg House with me, just for tonight. Whatever happens tomorrow with Don, give me one night to love you like I've always wanted to before I have to let you go again."

"So, call you an idiot, order you to make my coffee and to do my charting."

"Mmmm, now I'm getting all tingly," she teased and put her arms around his neck. He peppered kisses from her lips to her jaw and down her neck as she bit his earlobe.

"House?" she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

"Yeah, Cameron?"

"I love you."

He nipped at her ear in return and whisper back "I know."

"Ass."

He took that as a cue to grab hers. "You asked me to be Greg House."

"Touché."

"Shower, then sex?" He asks hopefully.

"Okay." She agrees, smiling up into the brown eyes she'd become accustomed to the last week.

"Give me a head start. I need to cut my hair, trim the beard and take out these contacts. Greg House doesn't like the Jesus look."

"But, aren't you worried someone we know might…"

"See a guy with a limp that looks like me waltzing out of your building in the morning? I parked in the garage, remember? And I can toss on a hoodie. I always keep one for getting by cameras. I can walk against the wall like I'm drunk and avoid the cane. I had to do stuff like that for six months with Wilson. I'll be fine. I want this too. You're right. It might be the only time we ever have to do it."

"I'll wait here then. Just yell when you're done preening."

"Beauty like mine doesn't come easy. It takes work to be this sexy," he said as he flipped his hair and shook his head like a supermodel.

With a laugh, she told him, "Just don't clog my sink with your feathers."

"Believe me. I've learned my lesson with plumbing," he winks and limps away, leaving her to sit on her bed anticipating seeing him as House again. She was wet from the idea of it.

After he called her in, she took her time looking him over. He was still in his jeans, t-shirt and a baby-blue button down. She could better see how his face had aged, she tried to memorize each new wrinkle. Then she dared to look at his eyes. The lack of drug use made the skin around them appear less puffy and somehow also younger. This was the man she'd wanted for the last 11 years.

His beard was trimmed to a couple of days worth of scruff and, being mostly new growth appeared mostly gray with the colored haircut away. His hair was clipper cut short and like with his beard, but not to the same degree, she could see more gray with the darker long hair removed. It suited him more with his thinning hair, she thought. Although she had to admit, she did like grabbing his long hair when he'd gone down on her. However, the man standing before her was the man she fell in love with.

"I miss you House — Greg," she tried the name out for the first time outside the throws of passion. It felt oddly right that he should share the same name as her son. She wished again House was his father, then maybe…

"I'm here now," his words pulled her from her reverie.

She began undressing him slowly. He let her. They were in no hurry now. The frantic mating from earlier in the week was past them. Tonight was about making a memory to sustain them; maybe forever.

She took his blue buttoned shirt off first. Taking each of his hands, in turn, she ran her fingers over them, up the inside of his forearm and back again. She explored the calluses on his right hand. She recalled all the times she's tried to leave him with a handshake and he wouldn't acknowledge the gesture. She kissed the rough skin and sucked a finger into her mouth, before giving a similar inspection to his left hand.

Satisfied she'd seen ever line and callus, she pulled his t-shirt from his jeans. He lifted his arms over his head, to aid her removal of it and she set out on a slow exploration of his chest. She loved his chest, with the small patch of hair. _The perfect amount_ , she thinks as she licks each of her thumbs and puts them to work on his nipples. He'd been so quiet up to that point, but this caused him to break the silence with a sharp intake of air. His small tits harden under her thumbs and she set to sucking each in turn, then blew on each of the small, ultra-sensitive peeks.

He was in great shape. Not cut from hours at the gym, but obviously took care with his figure. His pecs were well outlined under a thin layer of soft tissue. His stomach was long and flat and his belly button turned inward a few inches above his belt. She longed to circle it with her tongue. She preferred men this way. Naturally strong, without looking like a meat-head. His upper arms wrapped around her. His strong, beautiful biceps pulling her into his embrace as he kissed her on the head. God, how she loved his arms.

It was his turn to even the score. He pushed her away, then backed up toward the toilet. He dropped the lid and sat, looking up at her heavy-lidded. "Strip for me. Slowly. Top first."

She pulled the v-neck sweater off first, then slowly unbuttoned her white top, revealing her milky flesh to him one inch at a time. Once fully open she let it slide from her shoulders, and reached between her breasts to unfasten her light purple bra. He was right about her breasts, she thought. She had gained more than a cup size when breastfeeding and only lost about half of it back after weaning her son. She felt like they finally fit the rest of her body. His eyes showed their approval.

"Come here. I'm hungry," he called to her and she stepped forward to stand between his legs. His face was at the perfect height to suckle her exposed breasts. His mouth latched onto her left as his arms wrapped around her exploring every inch of her back with feather light touches. He sucked them into long hard peaks and admired his work before sucking again. She was beginning to think he wasn't joking about having a bit of a nursing fetish. She wishes she could fulfill his fantasy. All his fantasies. She would be at his mercy sexually, ' _if only…'_

She pulled her mind away from depressing thoughts and focused again on simply enjoying his talented mouth on her. Loving her. Thirsting for her like a dehydrated man lost in the desert thirsts for water. His mouth and face felt so different now, with the shorter beard. Her hands stroked his hair; she loved the feel of it short. This is how it was in her dreams of him.

His hands circled around and met just below her navel. He pushed her back gently and began unbuttoning her jeans. He took forever with the zipper, a shit-eating grin on his face the whole way down, then he looked up at her and said "Off."

She stepped forward and turned around, peeking back at him seductively over her shoulder. He gave her a wink and she pulled down her pants and panties together, bending over to give him the full view of her ass and her labia. He grunted approval and she saw from the corner of her eye rub himself through his jeans.

She finished kicking off her pants, and then pulled off her socks, finally standing naked before him. Turning, she told him, "You're wearing far too many clothes, Dr. House. I need you naked to fully examine you."

"Okay, Dr. Cameron. I've been having this funny feeling, right here." He rubbed himself again through his jeans.

"Oh, well, that's troubling. I'll definitely need to have a look."

She extended a hand and helped him stand, and then unfastened his belt and jeans. Pushing them to the floor with his underwear she positioned herself on her knees before him. His massive prick weeping right in front of her face. "Oh, this is a problem. But lucky you, there's a cure."

She swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock, and he hissed. "Fuck, Dr. Cameron."

"I concur, one hundred percent Dr. House," teased and took him fully into her mouth, sucking and bobbing, sliding her lips over his length, rubbing the tip of his prick against the ridges on the roof of her mouth.

"I'm not going to last if you keep that up." He confessed. She was enjoying his taste too much to listen. He tugged her hair gently, "Allison, baby, I want this to last." With a small, moan of disapproval, she pulled away. "Believe me, I love it. But I don't want to come yet. Let's shower, okay?"

She nodded, took his hand and stood. He pulled her into another embrace and she reveled in the feel of his wet, hard dick pressed against her stomach. _'Cuddy was stupid.'_ She thought, and then immediately felt bad both for the sentiment and for thinking of the other woman in the first place. But she would never understand how her friend could have given up on this man.

Her thoughts continued to drift as they started the water and stepped into the spray. Yes, he was far from perfect, perhaps even certifiable, but no one had ever made Cameron feel so important before. He made love to her as if she were the center of the universe. She imagined he loved Cuddy this fiercely as well. Otherwise, why would he have gone off the deep end when she dumped him?

Maybe he wouldn't be so damned lost now. Alison couldn't have him either way, at least if Cuddy had not fucked him up he would have never had to die.

"Hey. Where are you right now?" House asked her as he gently washed her hair.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about things I shouldn't."

"No more of that. Let's not waste the last of our time together."

"Sorry. You're right," she agreed and focused her mind on enjoying the feel of his strong fingers massaging her scalp.

After showering until the water ran cold, they dried and headed for bed. He'd become playful, snapping his towel at her and causing her to run from the room giggling, him limp-sauntering behind, smiling at her girlish behavior and the lovely way her feminine flesh bounced as she ran. She loved how he looked at her like a cross between a hungry wolf and a lost soul in need of a savior. She was sure she looked at him in the same way.

She pounced on the bed before him, rolled over and pushed back to the middle of the bed. He crawled in after her and on top of her, pulling her hips to meet his, sinking himself first try. ' _God, he fills me perfectly.'_

His rhythm was slow, excruciating and exquisite. His eyes held hers as he made love to her. She clung to him like a vine to a brick wall, wrapping her legs around his ass, pushing him deeper with her heels, she felt like he couldn't be deep enough. She needed all of him.

"Fuck." He broke the moment. "Condom."

"Don't."

"You know we can't do that. The timing is too close now. If this wasn't so fucked up, I'd fucking love to come inside of you. I've always wanted to 'go all the way', all the way, actually. I was just too scared for most of my life that I'd turn into my Dad. Come on" he pulled out "I can't do this to you or me or a kid we might make. It's not fair, but that's life."

"You're right, I just… I just wasn't thinking clearly."

"I'm sorry this is all fucked up."

"Me too."

He slipped on the condom and she pushed him on his back and took position atop him. He held himself in alignment and she sank on him and missed the skin on skin contact. He sensed it and sat up to hold her as she rode him. They couldn't get close enough to one another, neither wanted it to end, both shed tears before their final release.

Long into the night, he held her. He whispered he loved her after he thought she was asleep. She didn't break the spell and remained silent, holding his words close to her heart. When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.


	17. For Better, For Worse

_AN: As always, thanks to my beta, ataraves. She's worth more than her weight in gold._

 **For Better, For Worse**

Ray asked all about Don's mother when he dropped off Greg. Amazingly, Cameron held herself together and thanked the HIPAA gods she had a legal reason to avoid discussing the details of a patient's diagnosis and treatment. Ray had learned many years ago not to ask medical details when he had an idea of who the patient might be.

She simply told Ray "I figured it out and Don's mother is starting treatment. The outlook's good. Don drove me back to Chicago Friday and headed back home after we ate." That part was mostly true and therefore an easy story to tell.

If Ray didn't buy her story, he didn't give any indication, so she changed the subject to their son. "So, you still have Greg for Christmas, in exchange for me having him the full week for New Years?" She asks, confirming the request he'd made of her.

"Yeah," Ray answered as he passed off Greg to her. "Thanks again for working that out for me. I just wanted to have him for the first Christmas at the new house. You still planning on spending some time with your folks?"

She nodded as she kissed the smiling boy, who now clung to her happily. "Yeah. Three days. Then Greg and I are going to enjoy a little stay-cation and play with the toys Santa brings him at Mommy's place. Right, little man?"

Greg nodded an enthusiastic 'yes' and they bid Ray goodbye. Maybe today she'd put up her tree, she thought happily as she carried her son up to her apartment.

As the day passed, Cameron tried in vain to keep her mind from dwelling on the week she'd spent with House. It was an impossible task. Maybe it was her paranoia setting in, but every time she looked at little Greg playing happily with the various ornaments she'd unboxed and scattered on the couch, her mind would begin to question if this would be her last Christmas with the boy. Well, technically she didn't even have _this_ Christmas with him. His father's offer of a full week with him in exchange for the two-day holiday had been far too appealing. Although, she suspected with his new house and his new woman, her days with Greg may well be numbered.

There was a part of her that still believed the man she once thought well enough of to marry would not fully take a son from his mother. Two years ago she never would have believed she would be relegated to one day a week with him either. House's offer to run away with him caused a smile to tug at her lips. She imagined Greg in his arms, calling him Dad. Each time she did, she'd quickly curse herself for being weak minded.

She made it through the day and did her best to hide her sadness from her son. Luckily for her, he was enthralled with decorating the tree and gave thought to little else. He asked her to say prayers with him and, for once, she stood up for her beliefs and told him "Mommy doesn't pray to Jesus like Daddy. One day, when you're a little older we can talk about why."

This was not a logic a 3-year-old understands. He launched into a million and one whys and she wished she'd pretended and gotten on with her night like she normally did. She'd probably have hell to pay with Ray over it. ' _But fuck him anyway,'_ she thought as she climbed into her cold bed alone for the first time in a week.

Alone and free of any distraction, her mind began to wander back to dangerously happy territory. She imagined herself laughing with House over silly things, like they'd done at the farmhouse, loving the side of him he'd finally shared with her. She imagined them working together again. Imagined fighting with him over some diagnosis and afterward making up while making out. She imagined him with Greg again and wondered if he really did want to settle down with her and raise her son as theirs, and perhaps make Greg a little brother or sister.

Imagining House with a kid, especially his own kid, was something that amused her greatly. She often thought that he, as with all things, would either be great with kids or a complete failure. House didn't do in-between. Truth is, she still had no clue which side he may fall on.

The way he acted as her boss had always made her believe he never wanted to deal with children. She assumed that his behavioral demons were to blame with that as much as his fear of letting people get too close to him. He always assumed he was doomed to fail at any sort of meaningful relationship, so much so that he'd sabotage the vast majority before they had the chance to become anything.

She thought about Cuddy. This made her angry. Angry at herself for being judgmental. Honestly, House drove a car into Cuddy's house with Cuddy, her guests, and Rachel inside. Fuck his logical mind knowing they'd cleared the room. He couldn't guarantee that Rachel wasn't there or that someone might not have walked right back into the room just as his car came plowing through the wall.

He was a nut job.

She got mad at House for not being able to man-up and simply hold Cuddy's hand sooner and sans drugs. She got mad at Cuddy for not being able to see how terrified House was of losing the things he took the effort to love. Of course, he would look for strength in the form of Vicodin.

She could have been, actually was, at one point, happy for them. At the time she'd first found out about their relationship, things were great for her as well. She was starting to date again, her job was going well, she felt like she was finally past all the shit. She hoped House was too.

Happiness, for both of them, seemed always to be rather short-lived.

He was likely over the ocean, but she missed him, so she rolled over and pulled the burner phone from her night table drawer. - _I miss you already. Hope you're safe. -_ She thought about adding an "I love you" too, but it was hard enough without that.

An answer came quickly, surprising her. - _Hey didn't think I'd hear from you so soon_

Smiling she typed back, _\- I thought you'd be over the ocean_

The phone buzzed quickly again. _\- Na, flight's tomorrow. I'm in NYC for the night._

The phone vibrated with a call as soon as she read the last text and she answered happily. "Hey"

"Hey," his voice answered back softly. Cameron found his phone voice to be incredibly sexy. In fact, if she was honest with herself, his voice might have been the first thing that she fell for when he'd called her to come in for her interview.

"I missed you this morning," she told him. Relaxing into the pillows stacked against the head of her bed.

"I thought it'd be easier," he replied sadly.

"I know. It was." A brief silence followed as neither was sure what to say. She decided to keep it simple and talked about her day. "Greg and I put up the tree today. He was pretty excited about hanging ornaments."

"His mother's son. You always did enjoy decking the office. I really thought you'd at least hang mistletoe once. To lure your boss in for a kiss."

"Yeah, well, at the time I was also trying to avoid getting stuck under it with Chase or Foreman, or Wilson for that matter."

"I'd've paid good money to see you and Cuddy under some." It bothered her that he was so nonchalant, having now been intimate with both of them, but he was House. This was him being normal. So she let it roll off and instead of getting upset, took it a step further.

"Of course you would have. But don't leave out Thirteen."

"Now you're talking. She could school you both in her mysterious sapphic ways."

"She was rather hot," Cameron teased.

"Are you trying to give me a boner?"

"It's one of my favorite things."

"So, the kid's with you tonight?"

"Yeah, he's here. He asked if you were going to have breakfast with him again. I told him you had gone back home. I think he was a little disappointed." She told him truthfully. Little Greg had taken to Don. His mother's son in more ways than his love of Christmas, she supposed.

"Kids dig me," House bragged.

Cameron laughed, "No accounting for taste."

He huffed, in a teasing manner. Then the line went quiet again for a moment. Finally, House spoke. "I have a really early flight. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Okay. I guess I'll let you go then." The disappointment was evident in her tone.

His voice became soft again. "Bye, Allison."

"Goodbye, Don." She answered just before the line went dead.

* * *

The next two weeks were a quick descent back into depression. She'd curbed her drinking with House to a reasonable amount without even thinking about it, but once she was completely alone again, her old friend Merlot began to call to her and she was more than happy to spend time with him at the bottom of the bottle.

House hadn't called her, hadn't texted. Of course, she'd also not called or texted him. It made it too hard. She wondered if his phone was even good outside the U.S. Not that she could call that an excuse. He'd skyped her before, so even if the phone wasn't international, either of them could find a way. But talking complicated the whole mess.

She threw herself into a particularly grueling case. At least that kept her mind from dwelling on the lack of sex, if not the lack of House. Of course, any case of any difficulty was a reason to think of him. She slept in her office, exhausted. Her dreams betrayed her. He was there and tore down her every theory as he tore off every shred of her clothing and took her hard over the conference room table. She woke up wet and wanting.

So much for her mind steering clear of sexual thoughts.

In her desk drawer, she found her vodka stash, took a big swig and looked up to find she was caught by Henderson. "You're tired, Dr. Cameron. Maybe the best thing for the case is for you to go home and get a good night's sleep."

He was gentle with her, but she knew he wasn't going to be put off. "I'd agree if I thought I'd sleep at home." She took another drink with little care of what he thought about it. If he was going to keep her from work, she might as well continue getting drunk.

"Why do you do this to yourself? You're at the prime of your career with this crazy cool job most doctors can only dream of. You're fucking smart and hot, most of the guys here would give their left nut to sleep with you, not to mention the looks you get from the lesbians. I don't get it. So your ex-husband's a dick? Most of them are, from what I've heard. I know the kid thing is tough, but you still get to see him every week. He's healthy and happy and if you'd wanted to be a stay at home mommy you could have been."

She nodded her head in defiant-agreement. "Yeah. I'm just plain broken. Good luck figuring out the puzzle, kid. House tried to for years and never could crack it. Pretty girls like me should have it all and shouldn't want the hard things from life. Not when we can lie on our backs and get anything we please with our pretty little girl bits."

He gave her a sad look. "You really need to put the bottle down, Dr. Cameron."

"Yeah, but I doubt that will happen tonight." She answered back and took another swig.

"Let me call you a cab home."He offered, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his white doctor's coat.

She smirked with a grunt-laugh. "What? You're not on the list of men who what to take me home and sleep with me?" Cameron wasn't sure where the hell that came from, but tonight she might consider breaking her own rule just because she wanted more reasons to crawl in a hole.

He met her eyes seriously and with a pitty she hated. "Yeah, but I'd prefer you sober and I'd prefer to not just be a stand-in for a dead guy. Either of them."

"You've been talking to Chase." Cameron eyed him shrewdly.

"We hit it off at the conference. Besides, I've never wanted people to think I'm getting ahead in my career by fucking the boss lady." He winked, trying to defuse the seriousness of the situation.

"Well, you're that much smarter than I was at your age." She starts to take another drink, but he reaches across the desk and takes the small bottle from her hand. She lets him.

"You act like you're twenty years older than me rather than seven."

"Because it feels like twenty most days." She leaned back in her chair and closes her eyes, wishing she could find contentment in what she had.

"I'm gonna call you that cab, Dr. Cameron. Go home. Get some sleep. It doesn't have to be like this. You can have work and a life. You just had a shit example from your mentor and now you don't know any other way." She wishes it were that simple.

"Alright, Obi-wan. Call the cab. If for no other reason than I can't deal with so much optimism tonight. See if you can't put your charms to better use and find the reason our patient is dying."

* * *

Once home she went straight for the burner phone. Picking it up, she headed back to her kitchen to pour a drink, typing as she walked. - _I'm turning into you when you're not around_

Placing the phone on the counter, she opened a cabinet and grabbed a wine glass. As she sat the glass down, the phone buzz against the counter.

 _That would explain the copious amount of masturbation_

She let out a 'Ha!' and grabbed a dark bottle. She didn't bother reading what kind of wine it was. She didn't care. Placing it by the phone, she paused her drink preparation long enough to type a short message back.

 _Ass_

 _Hey, don't shoot the messenger -_ came his quick reply.

She opened her utensil drawer and pulled out the corkscrew and set to work. After opening the bottle and pouring a glass, she took a very large gulp, then picked the phone up once more.

 _I used to be a happy and optimistic person_

She grabbed the bottle, glass, and phone and migrated to the living room. As she sat, tucking her legs under her body, the phone vibrated.

 _You used to be under the delusion you could fix everything that isn't perfect, life's finally taught you better_

She felt the weight of his words and drained the glass, filling it again and taking another smaller drink before replying.

 _My life is spiraling out of my control  
_ _and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it_

His answer came quickly:  
 _There are two ways you deal with things, remember?  
_ _One you can control  
_ _Leave_

There he was again, suggesting she leave. She let the conversation hang there. Her mind, addled with alcohol and thoughts she shouldn't entertain.

Leaving.

But not leaving like she's done before, with some tie left to her old life. Leaving for good. Breaking all ties. No hint to anyone. Just disappear from the face of their universe and never look back. In so many ways her new life couldn't be worse than the current one.

How long could she be happy with him?

They were both a ten out of ten on the scale of fucked up. Thing is, he seemed different now. As if Wilson's death may have been the catalyst he needed to finally get himself right. But she also knew something was missing from his universe or he would have never tried to find her. He had a void he needed to be filled. As much as he pushed people away, he was terrified of being alone.

He was also sick of being hurt. They had that common too.

There was no fixing him. There was no fixing her. But maybe they could find some comfort in being broken together.

Or, a couple of years from now, one of them goes off the deep end, leaving her stuck with no one.

Well…

She could have one someone if she took Greg.

Now she was making a scenario in which she could never return. If she disappeared alone, there were no legal ramifications that she couldn't sort out with some effort, but if she stole away her son, that would be kidnapping and would result in prison time if she got caught. After which she'd likely never repair the rift and he'd be gone from her forever and hate her forever, too.

 _If_ she got caught… But if she _didn't_ get caught… If it didn't blow up… What then?

Her drunken mind drifted back to the last time she'd had this sort of dilemma.

Before she'd left PPTH, Chase, and House behind, she'd had a dream. She'd never been one for superstition or who believed in acts of the divine, but she did believe the mind of an individual found seemingly supernatural ways to frame decisions and justify actions. We learn in our dreams. Sort out various bits of experience and information into compartments which we access later. Under certain circumstances, dreams can become visions. Still no sign of the divine, but simply one's own mind needing to sort out the input from the waking hours.

In House's visions, he saw people. Dead or alive. The various compartments of his own mind and personality used those people to thrust upon him many life-changing journeys. Cameron's dream was much the same.

It happened on a night Chase had been absent from their bed. She was rather sure she was losing him. In fact, she was beginning to see she never had him in the first place. Or rather, perhaps it was more accurate to say he had never had her. Working with House again was having its toll on her. His games — she knew he was baiting them all. She knew he stood by and did nothing when Chase murdered a patient.

In and of itself, she'd be somewhat shocked about Dibala. Chase was a good man. At first, she wanted to, hell came close to, doing the deed herself. What stopped her was Chase's voice in her head. He'd been shocked at her suggestion of it. She'd lost herself in a way she hadn't since she'd been on House's team before. Chase had grounded her; reminded her of herself. Then he'd turned around and murdered the man himself.

In the dream, she sat alone at her old desk and Tritter was trying to convince her to rat on House. "You used to be someone, who did the right thing. House has changed you. D'you think it's all been for the better?"

The next day, she put the dream off as a sign of stress. But as the days wore on Chase became more and more distant. More and more she questioned her own moral fortitude and that of the people around her. Was this the person she wanted to be? Was this the life she wanted for her newly forming family? No. She needed to start fresh.

After everything, Chase wanted to stay. She'd told him she couldn't. In the end, it was Chase who chose House over her. The irony would never be lost on any of them. She attempted to change her own mind for the sake of her marriage.

That night she dreamt it again, only this time she was standing over Chase as he falsified the records that lead to the mistreatment and death of Dabala. Tritter stood behind her and whispered the same words in her ear "You used to be someone, who did the right thing. House has changed you. D'you think it's all been for the better?"

 _'Tritter was a douchebag of a person, but that didn't mean he couldn't be right_ ,' she'd thought when she woke up in a cold sweat. By the end of the work day, she'd made up her mind. She told Chase, then she told House. She'd hoped, on some level, House would have said something for a change. Taken her hand, for a change.

He didn't.

Somehow that justified it all. Looking back now, she'd give anything to tell her vision of Tritter to "Suck it."

What the hell had doing the right thing ever gotten her? Hell, how does one even define the 'right thing?' She sure as hell didn't know. She'd once thought that House did everything in his fucked up way because at the end of the day it was the right thing. Maybe he did. But again, who's defining 'right'?

What was right for her?

She didn't know. But this life sure as hell wasn't it.


	18. A Change in Plans

_AN: Glad to see you're all still hanging around. Drop me a note and let me know what you think. The story's written, so no way of swaying the outcome, but I am always curious what my readers think. And, as always, hugs and kisses to my beta, atavares._

 **A Change in Plans**

The next week all she did was obsess over the question. Leave or stay? They'd texted a couple of more times, had Skype sex once, but neither broached the subject of her leaving again. Neither seemed to be eager to settle into a comfortable long distance relationship either. They weren't halfway kind of people.

Christmas was coming in a couple of days. She'd be spending it alone. No point in making the drive out to her folks home two weeks in a row and it was far easier to get the whole week off next week if she worked the holiday anyway. She volunteered her team for duty in the E.R. the remainder of the week since they didn't have a case. The fast pace was a welcome change and she was tempted to work a double every day just to keep her mind occupied, but the first night the ward slowed and she was told to go home around 5:30 p.m.

She decided to text Lisa Cuddy rather than go home. Cameron had a million and one questions she needed to be answered and the only person she knew could answer the most important of them was her friend. It might also serve the dual purpose of keeping her from drinking herself into yet another stupor. With the change in their relationship, she could no longer use House as a way to drunkenly express her feelings about her shitty life. Not with him answering back with a subtle sarcasm that made her care that she had a drinking problem. So, rather than help, it just made it worse, because she had nothing to distract her from taking the next drink other than passing out.

She headed from the ward to the locker room, opened her locker, fished her phone from her purse and turned it on. She sat on the bench across from her locker, as she waited for the phone to fully boot. Once it had, she texted Cuddy. - _Got time for a drink? Dinner maybe?_

Not expecting her to responded right away, Cameron placed the phone on a shelf in the locker and began to strip out of the hospital's scrubs. She tossed them in the communal laundry hamper across the room when she returned to her locker to strip from her underwear for a shower the phone buzzed against the metal of the shelf.

It was Cuddy. - _Hey, there! Been wondering about you. Yeah, just finishing up here. McNab's 6:30?_

Cameron smiled as she answered. _\- See ya there_

 _K see ya -_ Cuddy replied quickly and Cameron tossed the phone back into her purse, finished undressing, grabbed her towels and headed for the showers.

* * *

The two women sat across from one another in a booth tucked in the way back of the cozy street-level pub. They'd often met here after Cuddy moved to Chicago, but in the last year, their meetings grew less and less frequent. Cameron didn't have the heart to unload her life on the older woman. Mostly because the reason she was in constant turmoil was related to the one person she couldn't pine over in front of Cuddy.

"Got plans for the holiday?" Cuddy asked after they placed orders for drinks and some appetizers.

Cameron shook her head. "Not for Christmas. Greg's with his dad, so I'm working. I'm taking him the Monday after up to see my folks for a few days then we'll have New Year's together before I have to give him back."

Cuddy smiled an administrator smile at the less than ideal situation and the small win it was for Cameron. "Oh, that sounds nice. How are your parents?"

"Fine." Cameron shrugged. "Mom's doing her Martha Stewart thing for my brother's family. I think Dad is pissed I didn't put my foot down with Ray, but I'd rather have a week than two days, so Dad's going to have to deal with not having the whole family together again this year. I'm always the one to disappoint. My brother can do no wrong."

"Boy, I know that feeling." Cuddy huffed. The waiter came back then and place a wine bottle and two glasses in front of them. They both muttered thank you as he gave them each a small pour and left the table. Each of them drank more than half the small serving, then Cuddy continued. "My mother and sister are peas in a pod. Oh, she's proud of me, but she wants it all. It's hard for women like us. Maybe the next generation will find women getting the support they need to be the breadwinners and mothers and wives, but right now it's like trying to be a damned unicorn."

"Yeah." Cameron agreed softly and poured them what she felt was a more appropriate serving of wine for the both of them. "So how's Rachel?"

Cuddy's face lit up immediately at the mention of her daughter. "Taking second grade by storm, she's smart as a whip. Oh, you'll love this one, I got called in the other day. She'd called her teacher an idiot over something to do with Hanukkah. I swear, she barely remembers him, but a little House-ism still comes out of her at least once a week. Big case for nurture over nature in there somewhere?"

Cameron smiled back both at the comment and because Cuddy has so effortlessly directed the conversation exactly where Cameron wanted it. She and tried to picture House and Rachel together. What she imagined was not so much fatherly as it was something worthy of a sitcom. "I still have a hard time imagining House playing Daddy."

"Oh, he wasn't really interested at first, but Rach loved him right away and once she proved able to engage in low-level commentary on cartoons, they were best pals. There were days I thought he was really great for her, others I thought I was raising two children and I wondered when they were going to come home with matching tattoos and biker jackets." That made Cameron laugh because she knew it would have had a real possibility of happening.

"So he liked her? Liked being a dad?" Cameron asked. During all the times the women had talked about House, Rachel had been more or less kept out of it. But the longer that Cameron was a mother, and especially after everything that had transpired earlier in the month, she thought more and more about House's relationship with the younger Cuddy.

"Well…" Cuddy paused for a moment, obviously considering how to frame her answer. "I think the idea of getting labeled as 'Dad' scared him more than the act of being a man helping his partner raise a child. You probably know he hated his father; his father was really hard on him. Abusive by today's standards for sure, teetering on the edge back then, I suppose. House felt his lack of a nurturing side would make him, at least, the verbal equivalent of his old man. I can't imagine him ever raising a hand to Rachel, but he did find it hard to offer genuine praise for anything a two-year-old does."

She smirked, with a memory that made Cameron assume it was bittersweet. "Except, maybe, cursing, or quoting him, and, I found out later from Wilson, House thought Rachel had an impressive natural delivery when she lied. So much so, he never even let on to me when he knew she was lying to my face."

Taking a drink, Cuddy fiddled with her napkin and stared into her wine glass. "He never once asked for Rachel to call him 'Dad,' he was 'House' to her just like the rest of us. Whereas Lucas had been all about the idea. He was ready to adopt her and everything. House was happiest when just going along for the ride. It was one of the reasons I felt I couldn't trust him to commit. He was there for her when I asked, but it always came with this immature act that required us to barter. I thought that was how he kept the whole thing from overwhelming him, so I played along. When he wasn't bartering, I learned he was probably hiding something he thought I'd be pissed about."

Cameron took the information in, filing it away for more consideration later. She couldn't let her blind lust for him cause her to put her son in harm's way. However, her heart wanted so badly for Cuddy's words to offer some assurance that House had father material in there somewhere.

She couldn't just ask all the questions she wanted to. That would sure as hell cause Cuddy to question her. Cuddy was a smart woman. Cameron kept it simple, leading the conversation but choosing a question that seemed natural enough given the topic. "Did he ever tell you he wanted a family? Maybe when he was younger or when he was with Stacy?"

"He and I _nev-er_ talked about _Stacy_. Ever. Too much baggage for both of us, I think. The only time I wondered if he might want a kid was when I was trying IVF. He kept dropping hints that made me think he wanted me to ask him to donate sperm. Of course, I was still in my right mind then and ignored him, because I figured it was just another of his experiments. Since then, I've wondered if he was serious. _Thankfully_ , I didn't do that. Because you know his stubborn sperm would do the job and no way in hell would they abort themselves. God. We would have been tied together then!"

Cuddy shook her head. Cameron raised her eyebrows and nodded her head a few times in agreement. Then poured both of them more wine. She could tell it wasn't the first time the older woman had this thought. If Cameron were in her shoes, she would have been thinking it the entirety of their relationship. Wondering, in those good times, how they could have been if only. Then in the bad times, being glad it hadn't happened.

Cuddy nodded her chin as thanks and put the refilled glass to her lips, then pulled it away her eyes fixated on the dark red liquid as she swirled it in the glass, then finally took a drink. Sighing she sat the glass down and continued. "Before he proved his complete insanity, I had wondered if I had stayed with him, approached him instead of my sister to be Rach's guardian if I died, if he would've dived into the pill-bottle again, or if he would've had a 'come to Jesus' moment and finally accept the full commitment he was dancing around making with us. It kept me up at night.

"House was not a halfway person. Why was he being halfway with us? Was it just his fear? Could he overcome that if I gave him another chance? Or was it just that he was showing the maximum amount of interest he could in a child that wasn't his. Maybe he was in all the way in his mind and, if that was the case, I did exactly the right thing. I wanted both to be true depending on the day of the week. On top of that, was all this pressure I had my from my mother pulling tricks to get us back together."

Cameron was mid drink and her eyes widened over the rim of the glass. She swallowed quickly and asked incredulously "Your _mother_ wanted you with _House_?"

"Oh, she thought he was exactly what I needed and, if nothing else, the only man on the planet stubborn enough to ever stay with me. And that I was the only woman who was dumb enough to deal with him. She sure as hell backpedaled fast when his car landed in my living room."

The conversation was going in a direction that Cameron was quickly becoming uncomfortable with and so she reined things back to the topic she wanted to cover. "So Rachel doesn't remember him?"

Cuddy sighed again, knowing Cameron had reined her, but assuming it was for her own good and not for Cameron herself. She shook her head and took another drink. "No, not really. She has this vague concept of a guy named House. She was 3 when we broke up. She asked after him for a while. Definitely more so than Lucas, just because she didn't talk much before Lucas. When I left him, if Rach tripped or stubbed her toe, she'd want 'Lukie.' But she wasn't at the question stage at 2 and only knew a handful of words. After a few weeks, she stopped mentioning him at all. When I left House she asked 'Where's House?' every night for about two weeks and cried for him a couple of times when she got into something she shouldn't have or when I was tucking her in at night. But it wasn't long until she accepted he wasn't coming back and stopped. A few weeks is a long time to a 3-year-old and their memories are more conceptual than concrete at that age."

Cameron filed that timeline away.

The older woman continued after draining the glass once more. "She wanted to go see House every time I'd bring her into work for the first couple of months. I think the location triggered a routine of going by his office to say 'hi' and play with his toys… I'll give House one thing, at least he didn't go the route of emotionally blackmailing me via Rachel. At first, him not pulling that card made me think I'd been right about him not giving a damn about her. Then he cut his damned leg open in his tub. I told you about that one, right?" Cameron nodded and tried hard not to picture the scene. "Well, in the car ride over, he was completely great with her and I could tell he had missed her. Goddamn, how the hell did we get on this subject again!? The man's long dead and he's still got me all tied up in damned knots."

"Yeah, he has that effect." Cameron agreed as a waiter stepped up to save them by setting food before them. They avoided the topic of House the rest of the evening. Cameron had as much information as she was comfortable extracting. It would have to be enough. She couldn't continue to tear herself apart with a daydream. Some point soon, she needed to decide.

* * *

On Christmas morning her double shift ended a little after 2 a.m. It was almost 4 by the time she crawled into bed. _Merry fucking Christmas to me_ , she thought and closed her eyes.

A buzz rang out from her bedside table a second later. She almost didn't answer, until it hit her it had to be the burner phone because she'd dropped her purse in the living room and didn't take out her real phone before heading to bed.

 _Got a question for you -_ it read.

 _It's 4 in the morning here -_ she typed back quickly.

His reply was just a quick _\- and yet you answer_

 _yeah, I just walking in from a double -_ she furrowed her brow at the typo she noticed after hitting the send, then yawned.

 _On Christmas? thats very uncameron like of you_ \- The device teased back.

Her thumbs worked a response as she rolled on her side and snuggled back into the sheets. _\- Ray's got Greg, why be home, besides working double xmas eve night got me next week off_

 _So, anyway my question. how would you like to host xmas for Don and his mother?_

Her heart lunged into her throat at the mere suggestion that he would be coming to see her. But she tempered her response in case it was some sort of strange House joke. - _Why is your mom in chicago on xmas?_

 _My stepdad doesn't know he's still a stepdad  
Since I died she's told him she needs to be alone for the holidays  
He goes to see his family, we pick a city and meet  
This year I suggested Chicago_

Cameron's heart pounded in her chest. God, she wanted this. Needed this _. - Sure, what time_

 _5 work for you? out of your hair by 11_

It wasn't nearly enough time. She wanted more. - _Beats being alone, you both can stay here. Don't waste money on a hotel. Unless sleeping with me with your mom in the next room is a problem for you :P_

Three quick messages followed:

 _We're way past that lol_

 _Thx I'll let her know  
She's going to love you. You both suffer from xmasitis and you both like too much red wine when you're emotional_

Cameron smiled at the glowing screen and responded _. - I'll get a case ;)_

 _Some good scotch too. Some of us don't have a vagina_

 _If you'd like one…_

 _Not in town yet or I'd be inside it now_

 _Well if you get here early, and you'd like some_

 _Wrap it in red lace and a bow for me?_

 _Of course. It's christmas ;*_

She thought about rubbing down a quick one — not sure if he would send her another response — but she was far too tired to bother. House would see her itches were all scratched tomorrow.

Another buzz did come. - _Good girl. Santa's got a nice big present all wrapped and ready for you_

She smirked. _\- Little early to put on the wrapping_

The next buzz followed a moment after her reply. _\- I'll let you wrap your own present then. See you soon. Now go to sleep._

She ended with a simple _\- I do love wrapping -_ and drifted to sleep with the phone still in her hand.


	19. Christmas Visitors

**Christmas Visitors**

Cameron had no trouble sleeping that night, but the excitement had her up early, considering the time she fell asleep. By 1:00 in the afternoon, she had the place cleaned and the spare bedroom set up for an adult. Lucky for her she already had a case of Merlot. No place that sold alcohol was open on Christmas day, so the scotch was a challenge, but she asked a couple of neighbors and lucked out on the third try procuring a Dalwhinnie 15 Year Old, not top shelf but far from rotgut. It would have to do, because it was the only game in town.

She hoped that House's mom was as fond of Chinese for Christmas as her son, because she hadn't planned on more than that for herself. Before she could shoot off a text to ask, a knock came at her door.

Looking out the peephole she spied a tall man in a heavy blue hip-length coat with the hood pulled over his hair and the neck zipped up over most his face. Brown eyes looked into the opening and he waggled his eyebrows as the shadow come over the other side of the port. How the hell he kept making it past the doorman, she'd never know. But he was House and that was part of his charm.

Opening the door she greeted him "I think we need to fire our doorman."

She stood aside and he picked up his duffle bag and walked in past her. "Or fire the little old lady that couldn't figure out how to put in a code to the garage entrance." She rolled her eyes, knowing just the type, shut the door and locked it as House continued with a bit of a gay-man-swing to his vocal cadence. "Her grandson lives on three. It's his first time hosting Christmas. Big to do, she was late and I was a good samaritan who obviously must live here to know how to use the confusing computer door." He tossed his duffle bag on the floor, unzipped his coat next and she took it from him and hung it on the rack by the door.

When she turned back he was facing her and she got the first look at his ridiculous Christmas sweater, which looked like it escaped a bad crossover of the Cosby Show and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. "Oh. My. God. That sweater is hysterical. Is that Rudolph?"

"This," he pushed a finger into his chest and Rudolph's nose lit up red "is something that I inherited from Wilson," Cameron smirked at the trick. "That Jew had a thing for gaudy Christmas wear. I guess it keeps me from missing him too much when I continue to make fun of his bad Jew behavior."

She smiled at him softly and didn't press the matter, because she honestly didn't want to make him sad, and too much missing Wilson would do that. "I see you're working on the Jesus look again for the holiday." His beard was full again and his hair, while not long, hadn't been cut since last time she'd seen him almost four weeks before. Both had the gray dyed to a chestnut brown.

"I figured anyone who saw me before saw me like this. Best to be consistently not looking like me. Back home in Germany, Don is generally a clean-shaven, blue-eyed fellow with glasses and super sexy more-salt-than-pepper hair. But like I said before, I know too many people in Chicago to risk that. At least with it being cold as a witches tit in an iron bra out there, I can just zip up the coat over my face and not have to shoot for homeless."

"Oh, I'd like to see your hot professor look. I'm not sure I've ever seen you without at least a day's worth of scruff… Or with your hair combed," she teased. In some ways, she almost felt like him looking less scruffy would have been a better disguise but he also had to consider his current life as much as his former.

"Well, now you have something to look forward to."

She was afraid to ask if that was another invitation, so instead changed the subject. "So, Don, I hope you don't mind Chinese for dinner. That's about the only game in town on short notice."

"I'm practically Jewish when it comes to Christmas and food. And Mom was expecting Chinese in a motel, so having it here will be a big step up."

"Speaking of your mother… you said she'd be here around five?"

"Yeah, she has an old friend she's visiting early this morning. Old military-wife friend. I gave her the address and your name and told her to have the doorman call up to buzz her in."

"Great. So in the meantime, wanna unwrap your first gift?" She asked as she ran her hands up his chest and around his neck, the whole time struggling to keep a straight face while more or less feeling-up Santa's favorite reindeer.

"Ummm hmm." House agreed with an exaggerated nod. His left arm wrapped around her and slipped down to grab her ass.

"Get rid of those brown eyes, and meet me in my bed."

"Yes ma'am."

As soon as she entered her bedroom, she tossed off her shirt and jeans leaving on only the red teddy she'd put on just for him and jumped on the bed with a smile. He took his time and she thought about everything. She wanted to leave with him and never come back. As soon as he had told her he was coming to see her, she'd been happy again.

She'd thought a lot about her conversation with Cuddy. Maybe it should have scared her off, but all it did was make her more curious to see House with her son. She'd spent most her life trying to be there for everyone. Be the person people could count on. She'd run away once, and it backfired. More and more she was realizing it was all the wrong things she had run away from.

She loved her parents but she didn't have a real relationship with them. Hadn't since she married a dying man. They'd be hurt when she went missing, but they'd go on. Her brother would see to it. Her brother — now there was another story. They hadn't been on regular speaking terms in years either, so whatever he felt would be more guilt than grief. Ray _. Well, fuck Ray._ If he had his way, she'd be the one left with no son. _Let him make another with a good little church wife who knows her place._

Her mind came to a stop as House walked into the room. He hung his cane on her door frame and limped forward undressing as he went. He tossed the awful sweater to the side and limped forward again as he untucked his Van Halen tee and sent it flying to join the sweater. God, how she loved his chest! She opened her legs wide to him, getting a smirk in return as he reached the edge of the foot of the bed and started to crawl up to meet her.

He grabbed an ankle as he went and nibbled his way up the long lean appendage, slowly working his way up to his present wrapped in red lace, complete with a little bow just between her breasts. She knew how much he loved her in red and he was very clearly showing her his appreciation with every gentle nip at her thighs.

He paused for a moment at the apex. His mouth hovering over her as he inhaled her scent. His hot breath on her was almost more than she could take. "Damn, you're so wet already." He remarked as he gently bit her mound through the lacy garment. She moaned lowly, dripping even more with the heat of his mouth on her, the pressure of his teeth sending waves of pleasure out from her clit.

His hands found the latches and he unfastened them with well-practiced hands, pushing the now open teddy, up her body, so he had nothing in the way of his Christmas feast. She'd often cursed his wicked tongue, when she'd been the subject of its harsh lashings as his fellow. Now she cursed, begging for more of his wicked tongue. Begged for it to lash her again and again. It was a double-edged sword that she endured gladly, both edges making her more than she was without him. She needed him like she needed air to breath. It was all so perfectly clear with his mouth sucking her, adoring her, making her come for him.

She came twice before he'd had his fill and began working his way further up her still twitching body. He tugged at the top of the garment, pulling the cups below her breast, which pushed them up for him to devour. As he sucked, she began to tug at his belt, unlatching it, opened his jeans and pushed them down just far enough to claim his hard cock with her hand.

He groaned into her breasts and moved up to latch onto her neck, it would leave a mark, she was sure, but she didn't care. She wanted him to mark her — to claim her as his while she stroked him. "Left front pocket. Condom. God, damn woman, that's fucking… yeah…"

She released him long enough to fish out the condom, and he ran the tip of his cock over her clit a few times to spur her on and began kissing her, his mouth and beard still wet with her come. She had him covered a moment later and he was inside her. Both let a moan out into the others mouth and he started moving, slow and deep.

Her hips met his pace and they were one again. He kissed her like she'd never been kissed. Every pass of his tongue a promise of love. She answered back with hers, tasting herself on him, exploring his warm mouth and drinking in all the pleasure it offered her.

She put her hand between them as she felt him get close. He smiled at her wickedly and encouraged "Yeah, babe, touch yourself. Come with me." He pushed up off of her as his thrusts became faster and more erratic, his head tossed back as he came and she followed just as he began to collapse his weight fully onto her.

Cameron pulled her hand from between them and wrapped every limb around his limp body, willing him to never leave. She could barely breathe under his weight, his belt buckle dug into her hip, but she didn't care. She could die here and be happy.

After a shower, they laid on the couch together, fighting over the television remote and necking like lovesick teenagers. She wanted to tell him she'd run away with him. But she knew once she committed there could be no going back. House wouldn't forgive it. His other relationships lay as testament that House was an all or nothing at all commitment. This thing they had now, if she didn't make up her mind soon, wouldn't last. Neither of them could do halfway for very long. Just getting to halfway was such a big step, that he'd learned to avoid it all together. Settling instead for the company of women he paid, because at least then he knew exactly where he stood.

She'd decided that she'd give it the night. Meet his mother. Maybe talk to her, if she could find a way to somehow skirt around the topic with him in earshot. For now, she'd enjoy pretending a little while longer.

Halfway through _South Park Christmas_ (House obviously dominated the remote and picked his favorite and really, in his mind, only tolerable Christmas movie), they fell asleep on the couch, Cameron on top of his long body. They were awakened by a call. Cameron grabbed her phone from the end table and muttered a "Thank you," before hanging up and placing it back.

"Your mom's on her way up." She told House as she tried to sit up, but he pulled her back to his chest and kissed her head. "You can't leave now. I have a boner." He rubbed against her playfully.

"Um, you must really have a different relationship with your mom if you are good with my inviting her in mid-sex." She teased, and he let her loose then got up himself and headed to the bathroom, showing his true lack of desire to show off his boner to his mom.

The doorbell rang before he was back and on the other side she could see Blythe Bell and the doorman who'd taken the time to show her the way and carry her overnight bag. Cameron opened the door and welcomed the women she'd met twice before, calling her by Mrs. Johnson, which was the name the doorman had used when calling to confirm her as a guest.

She thanked the doorman, and he wished them both a Merry Christmas, before heading back to his post. The elder woman, smiled at Cameron as she turned from closing the door. "Allison Cameron. I never thought I'd meet you again after the funeral." She embraced Allison lightly, Allison returned it with one arm, having picked up the bag to bring it in, and wondered just what House had told his mother about her over the years, and especially over the last few weeks.

"Mrs. Bell, it's so good to see you. You're right. I didn't expect any of this either, but I'm happy it's happened."

"Yes and it's Blythe. Don has a flair for the dramatic. I suppose nothing he's done has surprised me for at least 35 years." She wielded his new name with practiced ease. Cameron had little doubt House's skill for delivery had been inherited honestly from her. "Oh and there he is! Oh my," she shook her head in amused disbelief, "Don, that sweater is even more hideous than last year's. James certainly had a weakness for the outrageous."

"At least with best friends and Christmas wear." Allison jabbed in, inciting a cheap laugh from Blythe.

"Hey Mom." House greeted his mother, somewhat awkwardly, giving her a hug. It was just as Cameron had remembered him acting all those years ago. His mother seemed to turn him into the likeness of a boy who was hoping to avoid getting in trouble for something he'd already done. "So, I kind of popped this all on Allison last minute, so looks like our tradition of Chinese stands."

"No worries. That's fine. I'm honestly over the traditional dinner. I've had it twice this week already, what with your Aunt moving things up for her children now that they are all becoming grandparents. Then our neighbors popped by with leftovers two days ago after they hosted a Christmas party. Since Greg died, they all cater to us at the holidays. If I'd known just how much free food was going to be involved, I might have had him fake his death years ago."

Blythe winked and he smiled and started to unclench. Obviously, this was some sort of running joke between them. Say what you want about House, at least he told his mother he wasn't dead. The thought of that put knots in her stomach. Cameron wondered if she could let her own mother believe she was dead or worse. She knew for sure, she couldn't tell her. It seemed if she decided to leave, she would have a heavier cross to bare.

Cameron gave Blythe the short tour of the apartment and let Blythe get settled as she dug around the coffee table drawer for takeout menus. There were two choices in walking distance. She handed the menus to House and let him pick.

* * *

Allison had never known House to be a Christmas person. At best, she knew that he and Wilson used to have take-out on the holiday. At worst, she'd seen him spend it alone at the bottom of a Vicodin laced bottle of whiskey.

Yet, here he was, slow dancing with her to Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of _What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?_ in his lopsided gate, as his mother finished her dinner and looked on. They were all a little buzzed and he was singing along in her ear, as if he himself were asking the question of her.

 _What had the death of Wilson, and his own death for that matter, done to him?_ she wondered. He seemed so very different with her now. His wit was still full of sarcasm. His jokes were all still dirty. But he seemed to be okay with allowing himself a moment of happiness. He was always the person to preach that people don't change. But here he was before her, the same, yet so very different in the one way that mattered.

Perhaps he was somewhat like the Phoenix.

Perhaps she'd had too much to drink again.

After dinner and the dance, they played Cards Against Humanity late into the evening. She'd gotten the game at a work Christmas gift exchange earlier that week. She didn't have any idea what she'd gotten herself into, only having a vague idea that the game was like dirty Apples to Apples. That was the understatement of the year.

Turns out, much to Cameron's surprise, House's mother could be a rather naughty lady. This was not the mother House had described to Cameron years ago. He seemed to feign shock for the most part, but Cameron had the distinct feeling that their relationship had evolved in the past few years. She'd have to ask him about it later. For now, she simply enjoyed the somewhat-drunk-Betty-White version of Blythe Bell.

House snorted as he silently read their cards along with his. He quickly donned a straight face and said seriously, "While I do appreciate, 'Masturbation, kid tested, mother approved,' I feel it is just a cheap attempt at humoring the judge, whereas, 'An Oedipus complex, kid tested, mother approved,' is a far more contextually appropriate. Now, don't tell me which of you…" He points a finger back a forth at each of them as if he was playing a game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe "because I'm pretty sure I know the answer." His final point lands on his mom and he winks and waggles his eyebrows at her. She acted completely innocent. Of course, with only three players, Cameron knew the older woman had given that card and she snickered at the implication.

"That must be why you never were a fan of my taking matters into my own hand. I guess Allison is the kind of mom who'd rather have the dirty laundry than the dirty secrets."

"God, this game is so wrong." Cameron laughed. "Good thing we're all just drunk enough to blame the alcohol tomorrow."

"That's totally what Mom always says."

"Okay, then…" Allison said deadpan, changing the rather inappropriate subject back to the deck of other inappropriate topics. "My turn next." She drew a replacement answer card, as did Blythe and Blythe placed another winning card in her pile. She was certainly racking them up at a record pace, Cameron thought. Grabbing the next card in the black deck, she turned it over and read aloud. "'I learned the hard way that you can't cheer up a grieving friend with' blank."

House smirked and put his card on the table immediately. Blythe took her time and placed hers with a poker face. Cameron reached down, picked up their answer cards and shuffled them a few times then asked Blythe to do the same. After they were mixed she picked them up and groaned as she read the first "'I learned the hard way that you can't cheer up a grieving friend with giving the tumor a cutesy name.' That's just horrible… "

"True, and funny. I've tried." House quipped.

"And I think the winner. Although, 'swiftly achieving an orgasm' was pretty good, but certainly works to cheer up far more friends."

"Sorry Mom." he winked at her again "but maybe I can see if that works to cheer you up later."

"Jesus, Don." Allison groaned.

"Hey, she started it," House whined and stuck his tongue out at his mom, who looked unphased at him over the reading glasses perched on her nose.

"I was just playing the cards I was dealt," Blythe answers innocently and Cameron thinks she might just love her.

By midnight Blythe had retired to the guest room and left Cameron and House snuggling on the couch.

"Your mother is a hoot."

"Yeah, I had no idea how much until I died. Well, I guess, that's not entirely when it started. Did you know my father wasn't my father?" He stroked her long hair as she snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder, on arm and one leg draped over his chest and legs respectively.

"No. I didn't know," she answered.

"Yeah. I guess most of that went down after you were gone. I'd suspected for years. I confirmed it by taking a tissue sample from his body at his funeral."

"Why did you wait so long? You could have found out years before?"

"I guess I wanted an excuse for not caring he died."

"Oh, come on. I know you didn't like him, but he was still your Dad in all the ways that matter."

"Yeah, it was a delayed reaction. Anyway, the guy I really always thought must be my bio dad, Mom ended up marrying. That pissed me off, and I made a big show of telling him and outing her together. He was pissed and none too happy, but his reaction confirmed they did have an affair around the time I would have been conceived. She continued to pretend she'd always thought I was John's."

"So, I'm guessing that since he's not a part of this life-after-death thing, and since he wasn't at your funeral, you and he did not have a 'Lifetime Movie of the Week' reunion?"

"No. If anything, I realized that John may have been an asshole, but he was a better sort of asshole than Thomas Bell. And then it didn't matter at all again, because Wilson DNA tested him and turns out he isn't my bio dad either. I guess Mom was a bit of a slut."

Cameron smiled at this. Know that House meant the statement as a compliment. And unlike most sons, he respected her more for it. "So that's where you get it from."

"Totally." He snickered and traced a finger over her arm gently. "Yeah, so anyway, I guess that made me start to see my mother in a different light. I called her a little more, started teasing her more and feeling less like I had to pretend to be something I'm not to spare her from my true nature. After Wilson got sick, she started calling me more. I think, she thinks, that he and I were closeted bisexuals and were lovers on the side. Which explains, in her mind, why we both couldn't keep a woman."

Cameron raised her head and turned to look him in the eye with an eyebrow raised. "Were you?"

"Oh, wouldn't everyone like to know," he teased back with a smirk playing on his lips.

"It's not like it'd be a stretch if you were," she stated plainly as she laid her head back in the crook of his shoulder.

"No. Actually, it might have saved us both a lot of trouble if we could have just been as gay on each other as everyone thinks we were."

She couldn't disagree with that. Hell, there were many times she'd hoped to find out they were gay just so she could feel less rejected. She also knew that they love one another more than most couples. To Cameron, Wilson was always the evidence that House had the ability to love and last in a long-term relationship.

"Anyway, after my death," House continued, "Wilson and I needed help, like I told you before. Mom took care of most of that because she was the executor of my will and was able to work with Stacy and handle things while I made sure Wilson got to do all the shit he wanted to do with his last six months. She and I talked more in that six months than we had since I went to college. Turns out, when we both decided to stop with our son/mother act and be our real selves, we really get along well."

"Did she ever tell you who your biological father was?"

"Well, she isn't sure, but there were a couple of guys in this band that rolled through town on a one night stand. Keyboardist and drummer. She thinks they might have been brothers, or cousins maybe, because they both looked alike and she thinks had the same last name and she thinks it was Gregory. I look sort of like how she remembers them. Apparently, she knows she slept with one of them but isn't sure which because she may or may not have slept with both of them. Maybe as a threesome. She doesn't remember their first names and has no idea which might have had the winning shot, but my money's on the keyboard player. She says it's all kind of fuzzy between the weed, the LSD and the number years since she'd really thought about it."

Cameron laughed. She couldn't help it, because it was so very perfectly him. "God, that explains so much."

"I know, right? I'm the result of hot, sloppy, hardcore, band-groupie-sex. It makes the pieces of my life all just fall right into place."


	20. Exit Strategy

**Exit Strategy**

He was still in bed when she woke up this time. A soft light bled through the shades indicating it was still early. She rolled over and snuggled against his back, putting her arm around his waist and placing a kiss between his shoulders. "I love you," she whispered against his hot skin, and it twitched in response to the tickling of her lips. His arm slipped over hers, and his hand intertwined with hers as he pulled them both over his heart.

"How long do we have before your ex drops off the kid?"

"He's not. I'm picking Greg up on my way Monday. We're going to see my folks. Then I have him until the second."

"So, I have you for a weekend then?"

"If you want me."

He kissed her hand and they fell silent. Just as they were both about to doze off again, Noise from the kitchen filtered through the door. "Sound's like mom's making herself useful. Do you have breakfast stuff? She'll make a huge meal for us if you do."

"Not really. I normally grab a sandwich and coffee at the Starbucks on the corner."

"Damn," he rolls over to face her. "I guess we'll have to brave being seen together because I am starving and hungover and that calls for a greasy high-carb, high-fat breakfast with coffee and a Bloody Mary."

"There's a breakfast joint a couple of blocks from here. But you have to promise to help me burn the calories off later."

"Deal." He pecks her lips with a kiss, rolls over and sits up, then yells through the apartment. "Hey, mom! Allison doesn't have shit to eat, so stop milling and get dressed! We're going out!"

* * *

She left ahead of him with his mother, promising to text once they were seated. He didn't want to be standing in a waiting area full of people with them. It only took one wrong person to see one of them and approach to 'say hi' and it could be a disaster. Better for her to get a table at least, so one could keep an eye out. It was all very double oh seven and while she doubted running into anyone who knew him or his mom, she certainly ran into her fair share of acquaintances while out and about the neighborhood.

Luckily, it was a slow morning and they got a table within five minutes and five minutes after they were seated, House slid into the booth beside his mother with their backs to the entrance. Cameron greeted him with a smile "So if I see anyone that I know come in, I'll just head to the girl's room. If by some stretch of the imagination I see someone that knows both of us, I guess we both should go and sneak out the back."

"So you're sticking me with the bill then?" Blythe asked amused.

"Sorry, I guess I'm all new to this super spy, secret-new-life thing."

"It's fine dear. We actually did have to toss cash on the table and sneak out the kitchen once in New York. It's not likely to arise, but it does pay to have an exit strategy."

"Yeah. My worst fear is running into Lisa. She knows all three of us." Cameron bemoaned.

This caused House to groan and rub his face. "Oh, God, don't jinx us."

"Well, she doesn't live in this part of town, so don't limp for the hills just yet."

Blythe asked Allison all about Greg. Of course, Cameron had a million-and-one images on her phone to share. The older lady melted on each, occasionally squeezing her own son's knee. House for his part, followed along and rolled his eyes at the gushing females. He did perk up for the Halloween images. The theme was Star Wars and Greg was Darth Vader and Cameron was Leia. Skimpy slave Leia.

"Trying to piss off your ex with that display?" House asked as he zoomed in on Cameron's breasts, over his mother's hand, earning a slap from her.

"That was more of a pleasant side effect. I promised Greg he could pick our costumes this year. He picked slave Leia because she's, and this was his words and not mine, 'pretty like mommy.' How was I supposed to say no to that?"

"He's right. I like him even more now that I know he can be leveraged to get you into skimpy Halloween costumes. This is a talent of the highest order and demands respect and encouragement from the male role models in his life. And I like the dark hair. Reminds me of old times."

"I liked it too. It's been forever since I've had it darkened. I almost ended up staying brunette again after that, but I'd bought the kind that only takes a few washings to fade out and got too slammed at work to deal with the salon afterward. Then it was back to blonde and I just forgot about it."

He reached over again and grabbed the phone, pinch-zooming in and out over her breasts again and again. "Don Christopher Johnson! Stop digitally fondling Allison's breasts in public. I raised you better than that."

"Sorry, Mom. I'll save my fondling for the real thing later tonight." He waggles his eyebrows at Allison, who simply took her phone and winked back and sipped her coffee. All the while wondering if House was implying he was planning on being a 'male role model' in Greg's life.

"Greg looks just like you, Allison. He's so handsome. I bet his grandparents spoil him rotten. I know I would," Bythe sighs. Then it occurs to her that Bythe might be auditioning, but Cameron had no idea if she should mention anything at all. Had House told Blythe about their situation? Did she know Allison was considering running away or was it all in her imagination?

She didn't think on it long before the waiter came by to take their orders. After that House dominated the conversation tell them all about his latest work involving genetically modifying mice to help find ways to more effectively fight HIV in humans. It was extremely early stage but the work sounded fascinating to Cameron. House was excited in a way she'd never seen him and she began to see the new life House had made as Don Johnson really did work for him.

"I thought treatment was boring," Allison teased.

"It is when you know what the result is going to be. But when you're splicing the DNA of a rodent with a little bit of human, there are tons of puzzles to be solved before the work becomes boring. And I still get to use my diagnostic skills to rule out test subjects."

"And how do you publish your work and maintain your cover?"

"I don't. I let the boss man. Sometimes I get a team credit or a co-author credit. But Richard loves presenting and going to conferences and I love doing the work. And he's usually right in the thick of it with me anyway. He's gullible about life but at work, he's one of the great doctors.

"He knows I can't do something as simple as an interview without the chance it could backfire and get me invited to speak somewhere or have someone asking to publish an image with an article. Most bosses push for that. They feel they need the team of rockstars to get funding. Richard is great. He told the whole team that part of my eccentric nature involves refusing to be photographed or directly published. The team doesn't mind because they still get all the credit and I get to do something that helps keep me sane."

Breakfast passed without a hitch and they followed a similar plan going home, House taking a different route than the women, just to play it safe. As soon as they were home, Blythe began packing to leave. An hour later they said their goodbyes and Cameron had House all to herself again. She never felt comfortable talking to Blythe about her own desire to run away or ask advice on how to handle her parents. However, Blythe did tell her one thing on the way home that Cameron was sure was a hint.

"From one mother to another, I'd like to tell you that I think you're good for my son. I never thought that about his other girlfriends. I realize, given the circumstances, the term 'girlfriend' is a stretch, but he's never talked to me this much about any other woman. I know it's not going to be easy and you have your own son to consider but if you two can find a way to make this thing work, I'd have a weight lifted. I'm all he has left in this world and at my age, who knows how long it will be before he's left alone. Neither of you deserves to be alone, Allison. And from what I gather, Don's good for you too."

The problem was it wasn't only Greg, House's, and her lives she was affecting. If she left and took Greg, she was effectively killing them both for not just Ray but for her whole family as well. Or she doesn't take him, and he thinks his mother died or worse yet, found out the truth that she abandoned him.

It hurt. The whole goddamned mess hurt her in ways she didn't know she could hurt. As soon as they closed the door on Blythe, House sensed her unease. He grabbed her hand and led her to their bed. She thought he was going to fuck her pain away but instead, he went to his bag. After milling around for a few seconds he ambled back over to the bed and tossed several items onto it. She walked to stand beside him and looked closely at what he had produced.

Two passports, a folded letter, and a driver's license with _her_ image. On it, her hair was styled in a brunette pixie cut. It wasn't a picture she'd ever had taken or a hairstyle she'd ever worn. "I look like a fifteen-year-old boy with this haircut." She told him offhandedly as she continued inspecting the falsified document.

The date made her a few years older, but she remembered House's story of how he came about a 'legitimate' new identity. This person was likely someone who had died alone, and their persona became fair game for those who knew how to exploit it. She picked it up and read the information aloud. "Lanora Johnson, date of birth April 9th, 1976, five foot six inches, one hundred twenty-five pounds, green eyes, is this what I think it is?"

He shrugged and she grabbed the passports, the first matched the license. Slightly different image of her, again one she had never taken. Obviously, the people House had used were skilled in photo manipulation. Both the passport and licenses showed fairly recent issue dates about a month apart. "Wouldn't it seem more real if these were backdated or stamped a few times?" she inquired, still in too much shock to ask any real questions about what all of this meant.

"Not for a woman who's just gotten married and updated her IDs with her new name so she can travel." He hands her the folded paper. She opens it to find a marriage certificate from the state of Pennsylvania dated almost two months ago. Lanora Anne Stephenson wed to Donald Christopher Johnson, November 8th, 2015.

"I know it's the kind of thing a guy usually asks beforehand, but I'm not really known for being a normal guy. And, the whole getting down on one knee thing sucks when you're a cripple."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and she covered her mouth with her hand. She quickly, wiped them away a moment later, still afraid to say a word, and picked up the other passport. It was one for her son, his name changed to Gregory Donald Stephenson.

House became more animated. His excitement showed more with every phrase from his mouth. "He looks just like you with blue eyes so I don't think there'll be many questions about my being his dad. Young kids are easy to fabricate from scratch, as it turns out, so I was able to keep his first name the same. I think lots of things would be easier to deal with that way. I also have a birth certificate for him, with Don and Nora as the parents. I hope you don't mind if I shorten your name to Nora, I like that better. Like Norah Jones."

Cameron simply nodded yes, still shell-shocked that he'd thought this through so thoroughly. He was spouting off like he was mid-epiphany in a case. Her heart raced as she watched him grow more and more animated.

"I figure we weren't together when he was born and maybe we got together later or lived in sin for a while before I made an honest woman out of you. At least if it comes up before we leave the country… if you'll leave with me… that's the story. I told Richard the guys I ratted out found my baby momma and that the feds were hooking us up to get you safely into witness protection. Told him, I had no clue I was a dad until they contacted me. Beyond that, the less he was told the better. Everyone else there tends to avoid me socially, so for all they know, I've had a wife and kid back in the States this whole time."

Floored with the new development, she sits on the bed, staring off into space as she imaged all the work he had done the past few weeks to make this crazy scenario a reality. Finally, she looks up and meets his eyes. "My God, you've planned this whole thing out already."

"I have. Look, you can still say no. I'm not kidnapping you—" His eyes looked worried, but his voice and body posture were defensive.

She tilted her head and answered seriously. "No, you're just suggesting we kidnap my son."

He sat beside her and took her hand. "It's more complicated than that, and you know it. Look, you don't have to say 'yes,' but we can't be together any other way. I wanted you to see how easily it could be a real thing. We just need a few more small details worked out and you could be free. Hell, Allison, if you want to leave and not be with me, you can do that now with these. I just think that someone like you deserves to be happy. You're not happy here, with this life. I don't want you to let it get as bad as I did. Leaving House for dead was the best thing I ever did for myself."

She began to shed tears again. House cupped her face and brushed them away with his thumb as she told him, "I… Oh, God, I want to. I want it so bad it hurts. I just don't know if I can live with hurting my family like that. Fuck Ray, but Greg would miss his father. My mother would lose her daughter and her grandson, so would my father. My brother would be okay but he'd be left dealing with picking up the pieces with our parents. I just can't—"

He interrupted having an answer for this argument well prepared. "Look, that's why I brought Mom to meet you. You said your father might go along with the idea. Your parents love you, you're a mother, put yourself in their shoes. It can work; Mom and I make it work. And it's way easier when she comes to see me in Germany. We do whatever we want. Tour all over Europe. She's considering telling Thomas at some point soon. She wasn't sure he wouldn't tell the cops at first, but she thinks so much time has passed, he won't see the point in doing anything. Hell if he does, I just don't come back. It's not like I did something the US government would bother chasing me all the way to Germany for. I'm not that important.

"Tell your dad the short story. Let him handle your mother however he thinks will make it all work. He can decide to tell her now or to tell her later. Hell, worse case scenario, we get out of the country and she breaks and tells the wrong person. We'll be long gone. It'll make the local news at best, so long as you keep my name out of it. And again, probably not worth the red tape for the U.S. government to try to figure out where we went or to try to get us back.

"You don't have to tell them your new name, or where we are going until you know they are cool. We can watch the news, use a couple of dummy emails and a proxy server to talk to them. Have them check it at the public library until the police stop inquiring. Just let your father know you aren't kidnapped or dead and leave with me. If Ray ever finds out, we move and tell no one. Not even my mother. They'll all live and they'll know we are alive at least.

"Greg's a three-year-old whose concept of death is believing people disappear to go live with Jesus. We tell him Jesus needed Daddy and that Santa is giving him a replacement dad for Christmas so he doesn't feel lonely. In a year he won't even remember Ray in detail. Ray and this life will be an impression. Like a dream you know you had, but can't quite remember anything of substance about after breakfast.

"After you are both sure you want to stay with me, we can change his name to Johnson too. If he talks about his other dad, we explain to everyone you had a boyfriend for a while before you and I got back together and Greg called him 'Dad'. Easy and believable."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cameron stared at the paperwork in her hand. Oh, how she wanted to. Could it really be that easy? Would she really feel free once she came down from the rush of running? It wasn't a try-it-and-go-back scenario. It was a clean and nearly complete break from everything in her life. It wasn't a reboot, it was a fresh install of a new life.

Finally, she looked at him again. Her hands were shaking. His expression was nervous and guarded as she began to speak. "You do realize that my German sucks, right?"


	21. A Simple Plan

_AN: So this chapter is rough around the edges due to a super busy week for me. I didn't have time to pass it by my lovely beta before my self-imposed deadline for publishing was up. All mistakes are definitely mine. I've decided that most of you will forgive me more easily for typos and poor grammar than making you wait too long. lol - I can always loop back around to fix things up later. Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing, and tho I didn't get to pass it by her for a final edit, my beta_ atarvares _was there many months ago to help me work through the concept in the first draft. Her input is always invaluable._

 _I'll try to do better this week._

 **A Simple Plan**

The plan was rather simple. She would continue the visit to her parents as if nothing had changed. She'd pack exactly the same as she would have for both her and Greg. She'd spend two days with them, feel out her father and decide whether to tell him now or later. Either way, no details would be shared, just the message she'd be disappearing with Greg.

Her son, of course, and not her former boss. That Greg was dead.

He managed to get his connection for new IDs to create a fake phone number and address for a Don Johnson in Indiana and then created some fake call logs on her normal phone. He also paid him to field any calls about the whereabouts of Allison Cameron. If he did his job, it would turn to a dead end with an old friend who'd just needed a favor and knew nothing of where she could be. Worst case he could get a couple of actors to play the role of him and his mother. If the cops bother to get her real call logs from the phone company, it wouldn't hold water. If it even came to that, which he hoped it didn't, the farce should at least buy them time to get to Germany.

She'd take the country roads home, as she often did when there was no hurry. It was a scenic route and there was no forecast of snow to make it hard to travel. There were a few long stretches where she rarely passed another car and could see for miles. A perfect place to desert her car and all their remaining possessions save the clothes on their backs and hop into the waiting car of House.

House and she programmed coordinates into the GPSs of their burner phones and promised to meet at an appointed time. If there was anyone around, or the other didn't show within five minutes, they'd drive on for a few miles and loop back. They didn't want to send calls or texts via any of the local towers, just in case they could be traced when the police began searching for her abductors. They'd repeat the pattern as needed.

House would rent a different car from the one he'd driven to her apartment. From a different company. He'd gotten another fake ID for himself to do a few quick tasks and get them out of the state. Ray knew his new first name, and the doorman had seen him there along with 'Mrs. Johnson', his mother. He kicked himself for being so stupid as to not use a third ID when he first visited her, but even he didn't foresee things getting so complicated so quickly.

Once he had Allison safely in his car, they'd drive to a nearby motel. The old school kind that didn't have modern security. He'd have a room reserved in the back, away from people driving by, where she could sneak in and make the transformation from Allison to Daniel. Her offhanded comment about looking like a 15-year-old boy had given House an idea. She knew she was in trouble the moment his face made the all too familiar epiphany look.

If they tightly bandaged down her breasts, put her in baggy boy clothes with short hair and a cap, she could pass for his son. It was winter in Chicago, so that meant layers of thick clothes to help hide her female shape. A minor didn't need a photo ID to fly domestically, so long as they have an adult with proper ID flying with them. He could buy them tickets to LaGuardia, get them on a plane as soon as possible, posing as a father and two sons. With his limp and a sad story of his poor recently deceased wife placed to a caring ticketing agent, he would score a wheelchair or golf cart ride through the security fast lane.

Cameron scoffed at the idea at first, but he had her wash off all her makeup, toss on a ball cap with her hair tucked up, and put on his coat and look in the mirror. She couldn't argue too much with the image staring back at her. With the right haircut, the right clothes, a cell phone with Angry Birds and a despondent attitude, she could totally pass for a young teenage boy. Her bulky spare glasses, which were a unisex style, could hide the faint lines she was starting to get around her eyes as well as her manicured eyebrows, the rest she'd leave to her ex-boss's social engineering skills.

She couldn't argue it wasn't safer with all the security video that might be reviewed later in the attempts to find a woman and a child. No one was looking for a middle-aged man with two sons. Once they were in New York, they'd get a room, make the next switch, and become Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Then to JFK International to put their new paperwork to the test and catch the flight to Munich.

Greg was the wild card, but House promised he could get any kid to perform. From what Cuddy had told her about the ways House would have Rachel cover for him, she didn't doubt he could pull it off, at least in the short term.

The short-term was all they needed.

She finished zipping up her suitcase and took a look around her bedroom. She'd never see it or any of her things there again. Pulling the suitcase off the bed, she sat it on the floor and pulled up the retractable handle and rolled it into her living room. She took a moment to admire her view from the window there for the last time.

She'd purchased the apartment on the end of the building because of the view down a long straight street with tall buildings forming a canyon of steel that seemed to stretch forever. The Sears Tower (she would never stop calling it that) blinked at her each night, stretched into the low hanging clouds this morning. The sun was still low in the sky out the windows to her right, illuminating Lake Michigan. Funny how she stopped seeing the beauty of it all after a while.

Her Christmas tree was still there. Presents, save the ones she was bringing to her parents, were still there. They'd never be opened by her son now. She'd already had Don order replacements that would be waiting for Greg in Germany. She'd maybe miss her ornaments the most. She collected one or two each year of her adult life. Each has some small memory she'd collected with it, but they all had to stay.

She walked to the tree and removed her favorite. It was the one she'd gotten for Greg's first Christmas. It was oh so tempting to just toss the nicknack in her pocket and steal it away, but it wasn't worth the questions it might raise if anyone noticed it had been taken. Ray had helped her pick it. He'd probably want it. _It can be his consolation prize._ She thought as she hung it back in place and walked to the front door for the final time.

Taking her coat from the rack, Cameron sighed deeply. She was going to do this. Mixed feelings washed over her as she put one arm and then the other in her long black dress coat, then slung her thick red scarf which was hung under it around her neck. She opened the door one last time, took a final look, turned out the lights then shut and locked the door. With a purposeful stride, she walked down the hall to the elevators, her bag rolling behind. It was time to move on and she didn't allow herself another look back.

* * *

House seemed relieved when she jumped out of her car, moving quickly to get her sleeping son from his car seat in the back. She took him, the burner phone, his Stuart and the clothes on their back and jumped into the back seat of House's rented black Ford Focus and told him to "Drive."

"I thought you had changed your mind. House told her as he pulled off. Looking around to ensure that they hadn't been seen. There was no one for miles, more than likely.

"Sorry. Nothing has gone right today. I think the battery on this phone is bad or something. I charged it last night but it died this morning and I didn't notice until we were leaving. So I couldn't text that I was late, I plugged it into the car, but we agreed on no texting on the road. So, I just had to hope you stuck to the plan."

"I'm glad you didn't change your mind." It was a strange sounding sentiment coming from him. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror and they spoke volumes. She smiled and he relaxed. "How'd things go with your parents?"

"Fine. I gave Dad the broad strokes late last night. I think it was the first time in years he's acted like he approved of a decision I've made."

"I know the feeling of being a successful disappointment, but I was a bad kid and an asshole adult. What's your excuse."

"Dad thinks I need to be more selfish. Not lead with my compassion so much. That I'm too much like my mother."

"Figure's you have Daddy issues. God, it explains so much! Good thing I'm totally okay with that. Women with daddy issues are the funnest in bed. I can't wait to see your real inner freak." His eyes danced as he teased her.

She'd missed him so much. This was a dance they perfected with one another. Her eyes challenged him. "If my son weren't right here— "

"Our son." he corrected. This simple statement made her heart leap and her head shoot off warning flares.

"You're really okay with this? With him?" she worked to finish strapping her sleeping son into the car seat House had procured per her instructions. "Because, if you decide a year from now this is too much after he has to grieve over Ray and after he starts to love you, you'll think I make Lisa Cuddy look like a bunny. And not the fun Playboy kind, or the fuzzy little white kind they kill in labs. I'll be more like the one in the Holy Grail."

"Wow. Well, at least I know the pecking order. That's good. After growing up with a mother who wasn't willing to fight to protect me, I wouldn't have you any other way. Besides, Cuddy kicked me out. Remember? Believe it, or not, I eventually loved Rachel. She was just starting to get interesting. I've been wanting to ask, but it never seemed like the time, but is Rachel okay? Does she know anything about what happened? Does she even remember me?"

"She's great. I think she's in third grade now. Straight As. Laughs a lot. Has Lisa wrapped around her finger and knows it. Is very good at lying with a straight face to get out of trouble. Lisa blames that on you."

She could see his cheeks rise in the mirror. "I'd love to take the credit, but she's wrong. Rachel was a natural. I just observed, admired and encouraged her raw talent."

"She doesn't remember you per se. Lisa says she has a vague concept of a guy called House that used to play with her and her toys. But anyone who didn't know would think House had been her imaginary friend."

"I'm glad it didn't screw her up. I was a mess then. I'm better now. For lots of reasons I hopefully will get to share with you once we are safe on the other side. Just so you know, if you decide to leave me after the newness wears off, I'm not going to take it out on you or him. For what it's worth, I survived losing Wilson."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you, Don. I just need you to understand that no matter how much I love you, Greg comes first."

He bit his lip and snicked. It was obvious he was turning her innocent phrase to something sexual about him. This was exactly why she wanted to kill Ray when he forced the name on her. She rolled her eyes and sighed, "you're sure it wouldn't be better to change his name too?"

"He'd be more likely to blow our cover. But regardless, it's going to be so fun, I don't think I would support changing it either way. And now he has both my names, so more the better. His eyes took a look of concern. He turned his head and glanced back at the sleeping boy. "So is he okay? It's kind of early still, even for a kid to be out so cold."

"He has a cold. The meds knocked him out. Poor little guy. At least his ears are ok, otherwise flying would be out of the question. He'd be screaming for his daddy at 30,000 feet and everyone would be wondering why he didn't seem to agree that you are his daddy. And you can forget him not calling me 'Mommy' at that point. And speaking of, are you really sure flying is the best get-away? I mean those scanners are going to have a hard time finding my penis."

"I'm telling you, they aren't going to force us through those with the wheelchair thing. Take it from a guy who knows how to exploit his handicap. We'll get there late, I'll weave the sad, sad story about why. I've already ordered a wheelchair ride to the gate from the airport. They'll escort us and fast track us through security. The handicap access is through the medial detector lane, so you'll just have to walk through that. No body scan, because they won't separate us. You'll look like a kid with a gimp dad and as luck would have it sick baby brother. Trust me, no one is going to give you or me or Greg a hard time. They'll go out of their way to make things fast and as pain-free as possible."

"It still seems like a way bigger risk than driving. I mean, when you first hatched the plan it seemed great, but I've been thinking about all the ups in security and—"

"Look. We can still drive if you really want, but there are going to be way more people we'll have to interact with closely over the course of three days. If you drive, you'll have to be Nora. And even with the haircut, you'll look like you. Greg will look like Greg. We'll have to stop for food and rest. If we don't Greg's going to get cranky and be less likely to play along. With the head-cold especially. In that time, there is a good chance your car will be found and a missing person's report will be filed and pretty women with cute babies who go missing make the regional news at least.

"If you go with the son disguise for the drive, I have to drive the full way, which means, even more stops and likely will add a full day to the trip. More grumpiness, more chance they find you're both missing. More chance someone we come across on the trip sees something about it. It only takes one person and for us to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"My way, we take a bit of a risk upfront, but way out in front of any news of a missing mother and child whose car was found abandoned. The other travelers are going to be focused on their own trips. We are going to be herded quickly past security. We'll make sure we have nothing on us to trigger any sort of more intensive search. And then we'll get wheeled straight onto the plane. We give Greg just a little bit extra cold medicine and he'll sleep the whole way. We'll be out of the country in two days instead of four or five, and that might matter if we get unlucky and your story somehow gets national exposure, which is always possible with social media. All we need is one of those Facebook pleas to 'share this image of my lost kid and ex-wife' to fuck us completely."

He was right and she knew it. As always with House, riskier is better. He will have calculated all the variables. And he would be in just as much trouble if not more if they got caught. So, just as she had from their first case together, she trusted him. "You're right. I'm just nervous. I'm not used to life on the run yet."

"Stick with me kid. You'll be an old pro in no time. We're almost there. Put on that jacket and hat before you get out of the car. Make sure all your hair is tucked under the hat. Then pull up your hoodie. Got to make sure we look the part just in case someone is around or I missed a camera somewhere. Might not be a bad idea to put the glasses on now too. If you can take your contacts out in the car." It was dusk, but there was still more than enough light for someone to get a good look at her. Best to cover up as much as possible the short walk from the car to the door of their motel room.

"Leave Greg for me to take in. Keep your head down and play on your phone. If anyone talks to you ignore them and let me handle it. Just act like a normal kid and stay absorbed in your phone. All our other stuff is already in the room, so once I have Greg, we'll go straight into the room."

"Got it," she said as she began to put on the jacket he'd bought her earlier. It was a Chicago Bears branded coat, thick and heavy. Totally masked any curves she had. There was a matching ski hat with ear flaps, that would easily hide her long blonde hair for the short trip into the motel. She pulled her contact case from her pocket and tossed her lens in it. Then pulled out her old, more boyish glasses and put them on. She'd left her best pair that she wore on the days her contacts gave her grief in her purse in the abandoned car.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, she couldn't help but laugh. She really did look like a kid. He was right again. She just hoped that her choice in jeans and shoes were boyish enough for the short trip inside. A couple of minutes after she was ready, he pulled into a little roadside motel and headed straight to the back side. He gave a quick look around as he parked, breathing a sigh of relief that there were only a couple of cars and no one to be seen.

"Unbuckle him for me, then get out and make like you're trying to win an Oscar."

Doing as she was told, she got out on the passenger's side and walked around to the front of the car, leaned against it, took out the burner phone and prayed the battery had managed to hold any charge from the little bit of charge she'd given it in her car. 20%. Good enough. Just need like one or two rounds of Angry Birds. She heard Greg whine. "Mommy? Who are you mister?"

"Remember me? I was pretending to be Jesus at your mom's place a few weeks ago. We had breakfast together. You told me about that truck you wanted from Santa."

"Oh. Hi. Where mommy?"

"She's here. We're going on a special trip. We're going to go on a plane later." He explained as he made his way with the boy on his good hip to the edge of the sidewalk. You coming, kid? Or you just gonna stand out here all night rotting your brain with those stupid video games?"

In was rather frightening how well House had just played the firm dad. She looked up at him, shrugged, stood up straight, then walked to the room beside him playing the game the whole way. It was good practice, even with no one around. They needed to learn to stay in character. Greg had already fallen back asleep in House's arm. She couldn't help but fall in love with the sight. But she kept it all inside and tried to remember that she needed to look at him like her old man and not the man she loved for any of this to work.


	22. Second Cousin to the Devil

**Second Cousin to the Devil**

"First things first. We need to cut off your hair," he said as he put the sleeping boy in the middle of the bed and surrounded him with pillows to prevent a roll off. Allison got out of the jacket and hat, then glanced over in the dresser mirror at her hair. She'd learned to love the blonde locks. In college, her teachers had always treated her like she wasn't serious because of her pretty blonde hair. Her second year she'd come back brunette, and everyone seemed to take her more seriously. It was stupid, but it worked and she didn't have the self-confidence then that she'd had after surviving on House's team.

She'd never gone short before. She considered it once or twice, but every boyfriend she'd had begged her to keep her long pretty hair. So she always did. Now she was going to let House cut it all off. Well, almost all of it. Then she would dye what was left dark brown, to match his hair. He'd covered his grey again as well, just to help with the ruse. It was odd. He looked rather like she remembered him when he'd hired her. Just a few days of stubble, dark hair, sea blue eyes. His face had aged for sure, but his eyes drew her in so completely it was hard to focus on the additional lines.

She wanted him, but there wasn't room with Greg here and there wasn't time. They had a schedule. Fucking House senseless would have to wait. "Let's do this in the bathroom. It'll be easier to clean up without leaving a ton of evidence. We can pack up the hair in a trash bag and toss it in a bin with my clothes later. Please tell me you know how to cut hair. I half thought you'd have a prostitute standing by to give me a real haircut."

"I considered it, but I figured Greg being here knocked out any chance of it turning into a threesome, so it didn't seem worth the risk. And I used to cut some of the other Marine-brats' hair on base as a kid. Most our dad's liked to save money any way they could, so all of us could give a good clipper cut. Not much too it really. Just set the level short on the sides and use a comb or a bowl to get it longer on top then whack away. It won't be as pretty like a real salon pixie cut, but less refined will be better for phase one, anyway."

He worked quickly and efficiently. Ten minutes after she sat down on the toilet lid, he was done and inspecting his work. She was afraid to get up and look and it wasn't helping that he was giving her a worried look. But he was House so chances were he was yanking her chain. He pulled the towel from her shoulders and swept the hair away. She stood and turned to look in the mirror by the sink. The cut made her think of Chase. Her hair was a similar color, and the cut was similar, though shorter, to how he once wore his hair.

"God that's so strange." Her head felt lighter, almost like being a little high. She hadn't realized just how much her hair had weighed until it was gone.

"Now I'll leave it to you to crawl around and clean this up. Then you can dye it. I need you to wake the kid up when you're done. We need to get his story straight, just in case he does manage to be awake later."

Half an hour later and she was toweling her short hair dry. It was so different. No need to blow dry, it was nearly all dry with just the towel. "No wonder guys don't want to deal with long hair. This is nothing to dry," she says to herself as she styles it with just her fingers, pushing over to one side, and thinking it looked like what the kids seemed to be wearing, so far as she paid attention. Hell, she was at the age she was starting to lose touch with all that nonsense. With her glasses, she looked like a somewhat stylish 15-year-old computer geek. She was starting to buy into the idea more and more despite her mind whirling with the million and one ways this could all turn on a dime at the security checkpoint and land the both of them in jail for a very long time.

She entered the room still wearing only her bra and panties, having discarded her other clothes to prevent the dye from getting on it. Just because it was going in a trash bin down the road somewhere, she thought, didn't mean she should leave any extra evidence on it.

House stared at her as she walked out of the bathroom. "Damn. My penis is really confused right now," he told her with a strange look of appreciation, lust, and mirth. "From the neck down you are all woman, but the neck up… you could join and nerd-themed boy band with that look."

"I know. Right?" She chuckled and walked to stand between his legs. He nipped at her breasts through the bra and sighed.

"I wish we had more time, Danny Boy, but we need to flatten out these fine mammary glands enough to hide them under one of these baggy shirts. You'll have to take your jacket off for the x-ray. I brought rib tape and a chest compression garment. I officially reported to the airport that you have broken ribs and will be wearing bandaging around your ribcage. If security wants to pat you down, they'll know to go easy on the ribs. A.K.A not grab your boobs that aren't supposed to be there. I'm not using metal fasteners, so it shouldn't trigger the alarm when you walk through. So the odds you'll be asked for a pat down anyway are low if you don't pack around any other metal."

"You are second-cousin to the devil."

"You're an atheist. You don't believe in my cousin. I think we should talk to Greg before we make you look any less like his mommy."

"Yeah, let me toss on my clothes again for a bit, and we'll wake him. The meds should be wearing off soon too. So he'll have to get up one way or the other."

She was dressed quickly. Sitting on the bed, she nudged the boy. He stirred and looked up at her with sleepy eyes. He grunted and sniffed; his little nose red and congested. His hand reached up and began to rub his eyes and his body started to stretch out. She rubbed his back gently, letting him wake at his own pace. "Hey, buddy. Time to wake up. You feeling any better bub?"

"Your hair's funny mommy. You look like a boy, not a girl. Where'd your hair go?" He asked with a soft scratchy voice as he sat up slowly, yawning and sniffling.

"I cut it and colored it because we're going to be playing parts in a kind of play. You know, like the one you were in during your summer day camp? Remember that?"

"Yeah. It was funny."

"Yeah, it was. You remember how you had to pretend that Mr. Frank was your dad?"

"Yeah. He said I did a good job."

"You did. Would you like to be in our play too?"

He climbed into her lap and hugged against her and shook his head yes. "Good. Don?" She called to House, who had been watching from the chair, to join her on the bed. He sat on the edge in front of them and ran his fingers lightly over the boy's hair. House's look was soft and compassionate in a way that Cameron couldn't ever remember seeing from him. "Hey there kid. Glad you're playing with us. So this will be really easy. You don't even have to know lines. It's what we like to call 'improv' in the business. All you have to do for improv is pretend like you do with your friends when you play. You do that don't you?"

The boy squirmed around to sit facing House then. Trying to be more alert. Wanting badly to play with his mommy and her friend, despite his feeling poorly. He nodded yes to House and said softly "Jimmy and me like to play Iron Man and 'Credible Hulk."

House looked sad, as if for the first time he realized that he wasn't just taking the boy from his father, but from his friends as well. She didn't know much about his childhood, but she knew he'd been uprooted over and over and because of it, he'd not had any close childhood friends.

His eyes found hers. "He's got a friend named Jimmy. That is seriously a little too much."

"You both had common names. It's not like the odds are stacked against it or anything. I just figure that fate has decided to mock me at every turn. Could be worse if he went by James, I guess. There are actually two Jameses in his pre-school class. So the teacher made them pick which would be James and which would be Jimmy. Greg's not a fan of James, but he and Jimmy get along really well."

"I didn't think about that part." House stared at the wall for a moment. It was the first time in this whole scenario that he seemed to find any part of uprooting Greg regrettable. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"So I guess that proves your human, at least. He'll be fine Don. We'll talk about it later." She perked her voice up and smiled down at Greg again. "Right now you need to tell him about his cool role in the play." House, took a deep breath and composed himself again.

"Okay kid, this is good. If you pretend to be Iron Man and or the Incredible Hulk you can pretend to be my kid right? You just have to call me 'Daddy' and tell anyone who asks you that you're my kid. You have to stay in character for the next two days. Okay? Everywhere we go unless we tell you it's okay not to. This is a movie and we are shooting it on location so there are cameras watching just about everywhere. So remember, everyone is going to be pretending, and you are my son and I'm your daddy. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. That's easy," he declares with confidence. "Okay. So we have to start getting into character now. So until we tell you to stop just be yourself, but pretend I'm your dad."

"Got it." He said confidently, then sniffled. Cameron grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and helped him blow his nose. After which, House continued to let Greg in on more of the 'movie' plans.

"Okay, now, here's the really funny part, but also the really hard part, 'cause I know you aren't feeling well. Your mommy has to pretend to be my son too. So that means she'll be acting like she's your brother. That's why she has the funny hair and glasses. So she looks like a boy. The boy she is playing is named Daniel. Can you remember that?"

"Daniel. Okay." He parroted back confidently, then furrows his brows. "Why isn't a boy playing Daniel?"

"Well, kid. Your mom really wanted to be in the movie but this was the only part left. So she'll really have to pretend hard. You'll have to help her a lot and make sure to remember not to call her 'Mommy' for the next two days. No matter how sick you feel, just call her Daniel. And remember she's a he now. It's hard, but I think you'll be awesome. Think you can do that? Pretend Mommy is your brother Daniel?"

"I'd like to 'ave a big brother." He sat up more straight in Cameron's lap and patted her arm seriously. "Don't worry Mommy, I'll help you. Mr. Frank says I a natural."

She couldn't help but smile broadly at him. "That's great bub. I'm glad. We're really excited you want to play with us." She kissed his head and House nodded to her. It was a lot of trust to put in a 3-and-a-half-year-old boy, but he only had to get past the first plane ride with the Daddy/Daniel bit. After that, he could screw up calling House 'Daddy', and it didn't matter. She'd be back to being Mommy, just with funny hair, but Mommy nonetheless.

An hour later her chest was wrapped with tape and a compression garment, she was dressed like she'd just gotten in from a Bear's game, God knows why House picked the sports ensemble because she knew dick about sports, and the outfit was sure to invite comments and discussion. She decided to at least read a few things about the main players and the current season on the way to the airport. They had one shared rolling bag and a shoulder bag with mostly Greg's things. They'd pick up a few more clothes for her in New York, but traveling lightly was the name of the game. Everything else they needed for their new lives could be purchased when they made it to Germany.

Everything was ready to go and they were settled into their roles. House handed her another phone. "Give me the old one. We need to crush the sim card and toss it out the window somewhere along the way. Then we'll toss the phones in a bin somewhere else and lastly toss your clothes. After that the airport. Follow my lead. Stay close to me, don't talk any more than you have to, mostly so our story stays straight. Don't worry about your voice sounding like a woman, most guys sound like their moms right before their voices fully drop."

She nodded and took a deep breath and wiped her palms on her pants as House continued his last-minute overview. "I'll keep Greg in my lap. We'll do a curb check and get the wheelchair service. We'll be cutting the timing close and I'll blame it on me having to get you both ready without help with Greg being sick. I'll tell them we just lost your mom in a car accident. I'll whisper that you were with her in the car and injured as well, and you are not over witnessing her death. That'll get us the sympathetic vote and royal treatment. They'll ask if the leg was due to the accident. But it isn't. It's a war-wound from Afghanistan, round one. That'll get the wounded vet treatment too."

He nods back toward the still sleeping boy, "If Greg forgets he's in character, we just sadly tell him, 'remember mommy's not here, baby. Just your big brother and Daddy.' Then he'll remember we're pretending and go back into character. It'll seem totally natural that we want to avoid the 'dead' word with the little guy. Again, bleeding hearts from all."

She nodded and they loaded the car. Greg barely stirred when it came time to strap him in. House dropped off the key at the front desk and then they were on the road.

It was a two hour trip to the airport, with the two stops they needed to make. They tossed the sim cards along a deserted stretch of old state route highway and not together. Hit a rest area and tossed the phones in a bin next to the parking lot. Then, in a stroke of luck, drove by a Goodwill bin and toss her and Greg's old clothes into it. It didn't even look suspicious.

Once they were a few miles from the airport, they dropped off the rental and took a shuttle to the check-in. All right according to the plan. No one looked at them sideways. House was batting a thousand as usual.

She hated that he made her think in sports metaphors and contained a smile as she thought back to those early years with him. In a million years she would have never guessed this in their future. House sitting beside her, holding her child as if he were his own. Stroking his back gently and rocking him as he grumbled in his med-induced sleep. Kissing his head and humming soft lullabies in the little boy's ears. All the time she wondered, how much was an act? How much, if any, was real?

She did as she'd been directed. Her eyes were glued to the phone as much as possible, playing the various games he'd put on there for her. She'd quickly become addicted to Minecraft and he rolled his eyes when she pumped her arm after narrowly avoiding getting blown up by a creeper. "That's going to rot your brain. Why don't you read a book or something?"

She shrugged, "actually you have to use your brain to play this one. You'd prob like it if you weren't so old," and went on with playing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him look down at his watch. "We're barely going to make it, guys. Daniel, I'm going to need your help with your brother. Put your phone away and hold him while I take care of getting us checked in." He ordered as the shuttle came to a stop and the people started to disembark. "Now."

"But I'm almost finished building my redstone powered track!" she whined. He grabbed the phone and hit the home key. "You can play later. We can't miss this flight," he admonished as the driver looked on with a sympathetic eye.

The driver was a stocky man with dark brown skin, a pot belly, and a shaved head. Probably in his 40s. "I've got one his age. It's all he ever wants to do. The real world could blow up around them and they'd stay glued to the damned screen."

"God, tell me about it. And it's just me now. So I let him get away with it so much more than I should just because I can't do it all," House says sadly. "Wife was killed in a car wreck last month. I don't know if I'm coming or going most the time."

House handed her Greg and she tried to act brotherly as the boy stirred on the transfer. "Come on Bubby. Time to go for a ride on a jet plane." Then she remembered, as she stepped off the shuttle to the curb, her ribs were supposed to be on the mend. "Dad, he's kind of heavy on my ribs. I'm not sure I can hold him long," she called out.

House was tipping the driver, who had helped him carry their bags to the curb check. "Oh, damn, sorry I… Hey sir, could you help us out? He asked the attendant. My older son was injured in a car wreck and I can't carry the little one very far with the bum leg. I order a wheelchair when I got the tickets, so once it gets here I can put him in my lap, but he's been sick as a dog today — that's why we're so late and he's too doped up to stand on his own right now."

House could play people. She'd always known that. His current performance was Oscar-worthy. The attendant made a call then offered to hold Greg, a minute later a young woman, most likely in her mid-twenties was walking out the door with a wheelchair. House gave her a kind look and she melted as soon as she saw his baby-blues. The man handed Greg to House and the woman cooed over Cameron's son. "Oh, poor little guy. It's so awful when the little ones are sick."

"Yeah. It is," he agreed as she rolled them forward and Cameron fell in just behind. House glanced to the side and looked at a unisex bathroom then called back to her "Daniel you said you have to go, you need to make it quick we are really late, but I know you've been holding it a while."

Cameron was puzzled for a second, but then remembered that House mentioned he would find a way to tell the sad story, but it would seem too much if 'Daniel' was in earshot. He wanted some time to really play up the story of the dead wife to the girl so she would help get them through security faster. So she nodded to him and made her way into the family bathroom locked the door and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Damn, it was crazy. Exciting, but so dangerous. But so far House was showing his superior intellect yet again. She figured she might as well really pee while she had a chance, being dressed as a boy did have the one big problem: how to fake peeing like a guy. A few minutes later she rejoined them and the sympathetic look she was now getting from the girl confirmed her assumption. The story had been bought hook, line, and sinker.

They moved quickly then, practically jogging, toward security. The woman went right up to the TSA pre-check and left them a few feet back to talk to the guard there. She showed him their tickets and House's fake ID. Told him a few things and he nodded. She came back and said, we're going to get you fast tracked Mr. Gilliam. Then she got behind him again and pushed him forward to the first check in the nearly empty TSA pre-check line.

A moment later the security officer was looking over their tickets and House's fake ID. Cameron felt like she was sweating bullets but she just kept playing with her phone, pretending to shoot off some texts. Glancing up here and there, but acting disinteresting in the whole process. A moment later, he was telling House "You're all set, Mr. Gilliam. Hope your little guy feels better soon."

House thanked him sincerely and on they moved to the lane furthest to the left and, just as House had promised, the one with only a metal detector. She wheeled him forward and tossed the shoulder bag on the conveyer belt. "You don't have to do shoes in this lane, but you'll need to take off the heavy coat empty your pockets, take off your belt. Can you walk through the detector?" She asked House.

He replied, "Yeah. It's fine. I just can't do the long distances and long lines." Which was probably truer than he cared to admit. She nodded in understanding as Cameron and he put their coats, belts, phones on the x-ray belt, and proceeded through the metal detector. House walked through with no problem. The girl handed Greg to a security guard over a rope and they used the wand over him since he couldn't be carried by Greg or walk through himself. They had another person and chair waiting on the other side. The girl whispered a few things to the guard who passed on the information as they passed along Greg, then it was Cameron's turn.

She walked through and her heart leaped into her mouth as the damned machine went off. It was so tempting to run. Her palms were sweating, her mouth went dry. She tried to seem calm, but she was anything but. A guard approached and asked her to check her pockets and walk back through. She did as she was told, but there was nothing and the damned thing went off one more.

She began to wonder if the studding on her jeans might be setting it off. But whatever it was, she was terrified of being forced into a pat down. House spoke up then. "Can you wand him down? The alarms like that make him nervous since he was in the hospital. There were a lot of bad things happening every time some sort of beeper went off. Since then, I can't even set an alarm for him in the mornings."

The guard nodded and came over with the wand. "Arms out, legs apart. It's probably just some kind of metal on your pants. Sometimes certain types of riveting set it off." He continued to wave it starting from the shoulders and working down. As luck would have it the buttons on the crotch lit the thing up. She was glad House made her go pee, otherwise, she might be pissing her pants now. The whole inspection was requiring this guy to be way too close to her. And now he was getting ready to inspect her fly. If there was much patting there and the jig was up.

She glanced at House and he was still the picture of calm. Holding Greg in his lap. At least the meds were doing the trick and the boy was snoozing through the alarms and all. The guard asked her to pull up her shirt tail and took a look at the jeans and then called over another officer. "Hey John, are these those jeans that are always setting off the crotch alarm? I don't wanna have to pat this poor kid down for nothing."

John, squatted down and took a closer look. "Hold up your shirt young man." He ordered, and Cameron pulled her top back up. "Yeah, those are the ones. If you're concerned we can do the body scanner."

"Na just wanted to make sure. These poor guys've had a long enough day as it is. No need to make them miss their flight."

"Alright kid. You're free to go. Just ditch those jeans next time you fly. We have problems with those at least ten times a day. Pain in everyone's asses."

"Okay," she replied still shaky then gathered her belt, coat and phone and joined her 'father' a moment later.

"I think we're going to get there just in time. You guys are really lucky tonight."

 _You have no idea_ , she thought as she trotted along beside the much taller man now driving House. His stride was two of hers and she was glad she was in shape. It was another ten minutes to their gate, but just as he promised they made it there just in time and walked straight onto the plane with no wait.

House had booked them two first class seats, with Greg having a lap ticket. Once seated she took to the boy and he woke up just long enough to smile and say "Hi Daniel." Before resting his head back on his mother's shoulder. House heard it too and Cameron and he smiled at one another.

"You know he really loves his big brother, right?" House asked.

"Yeah," she replied with a wink. "He's okay for a little kid."


	23. Goodbye Allison Cameron

**Goodbye Allison Cameron**

In a few hours, they landed at LaGuardia. House, still riding the crippled vet card, received golf cart service gate to baggage claim. An attendant offered to help get their bags to the curb. Greg managed to wake up enough to walk himself from baggage claim to outside, all the while holding House's left hand.

"Daddy?" he asked, playing his part well.

"Yeah, kid?" House answered back.

"I gotta pee." House looked down and the boy was holding his crotch and squirming. Of course. The little guy had been out cold the whole trip. His bladder would be ready to explode. Cameron jumped in. She knew House could move fast bad leg or no, but she was doubtful House could get him to a bathroom in time while still playing up his 'war wound'.

"I've got it, Dad. You load our stuff in Grandma's car. We'll be quick." With that she scooped up Greg and jogged back through the doors and found the nearest men's room and darted in, setting Greg down in front of the first urinal she came to and unzipped him with a practiced efficiency.

"T'anks," he said as he let it rip. Two men came in and flanked them. Cameron focused on Greg and tried to act normal. She was a doctor after all, and this wasn't the first time she'd watched a man take a piss. Even so, to her, this situation felt like an invasion. She was never more relieved for Greg to finish.

"Don't forget to shake," she told him. He often times did if she wasn't paying attention. "Let me zip your pants this time. I know you can do it, but Gran isn't supposed to stay parked outside, so we need to hurry.

One of the men turned his head and spoke to her. "Man, I wish my older son was that good with his younger brother. He's way too busy being cool."

"Well, our mom just past… um.. she's not with us." She gave the guy a look, then a nod to the boy, to indicate he didn't know what that meant. "Our dad has a bum leg, so I have to pitch in now."

"Sorry to hear it. Still, it's nice to see a young man take care of his family." With that, the man shakes and zips. Cameron holds Greg up to the sink to wash his hands. Then makes a beeline back out to the curb. A security guard was there, talking to House and his mother. Probably telling them not to park there so long.

House glances over as they walk out. "There they are! Sorry, sir, the little one really had to go, and I couldn't get him there fast enough."

"No problem sir. I understand, but we have a policy. Next time just have your mom drive the loop once and come back around. Okay?"

"You got it. Sorry. I don't do this much. And since the wife passed…" House's eyes fell for a moment. With a sigh, he looked back up. "Well, this is the first time I've had to do this alone."

The guard's look softened, "I understand, sir. Sorry for your loss. I'm just doing my job is all. I hope you have a safe trip wherever you're going."

"Thanks," House answered with a look of genuine sincerity. Then his mother placed a gentle hand on House's shoulder and followed with "Yes, thank you, young man, for being so patient with us. It's been very difficult the last few weeks."

A minute later they were in the car. Greg was belted into the car seat and Blythe pulled out and headed for the highway. As soon as they merged House began snickering from the front passenger's seat. "Like shooting fish in a stocked pond."

He turned in the seat and glanced back at Greg, who was sitting behind Blythe. "Greg, man, you are doing a great job! Your teacher was right. You're _really_ good at acting."

The boy smiled and answered with a cheeky "Yep. I's a natural. It's fun to pretend."

"And already with the Hollywood attitude. You've got a future I think." House glanced at Cameron and gave her a wink and gave her a lecherous grin as she began to disrobe to get ready for phase two.

She rolled her eyes and he shifted focus back to prepping Greg. "So now, there's going to be a little bit of a change. We had an actress quit so Mommy's going to change costumes and play another character. In this part of the movie, she's going to be your Mom. I'll still be your Dad. Here's the hard part — Mommy's not playing your real-life mommy, but your character's Mommy. Like if one of your teachers were to play your mom. Her character's name is Nora. She'll be my wife and your mom and your still Greg, okay, but we had to write your brother out of the story because there's no one to play him. You got all that?"

The boy's brow furrowed, "I t'ink so." He sounded a little less sure of these changes.

House piped in to reassure him. "Look, keep it simple. I'm Daddy. She's Mommy. That's all you have to remember. Otherwise just act like yourself. You might need to know your last name for this bit too. It's Stephenson. So you're Greg Stephenson. Can you say that for me?"

"I'm Greg Stephenson."

"Man! You _are_ good." House praised him and Greg beamed again.

"T'anks!" he looks over to Blythe and she caught his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Who you playing?" he asks.

"Well, I'm playing your Grandma. Don is my son."

"Are you going to make us cookies? Grandma Jan makes 'em look like snowmen." He asks and Cameron let out a little laugh. It was becoming apparent that his cold has passed and he is feeling better. Which meant he would now be awake for much of the second phase.

While Blythe chatted away with Greg, Cameron changed clothes in the back seat. Transforming herself from boy to woman. She dressed in dark grey slacks and a blue sweater both picked and purchased by Blythe. Her shoes were a pair of ankle black boots with a two-inch heel to go with them, and thankfully they were comfortable. She'd given Blythe a specific name and brand for the shoes, not trusting that the various sizing would make for an easy fit when picked by random. Lastly, his mother had provided a grey pea coat to top off the ensemble.

Allison wished she had makeup and something to style her hair with as she put in her contacts. All of that would be purchased after they checked into their hotel room.

After checking into a downtown hotel, Blythe babysat Greg as Cameron and House shopped for enough clothes to fill a suitcase. It would look odd if they get searched in customs and all she had was the outfit on her back. Makeup and other personal items were purchased too. As they passed a jewelry store House grabbed her hand and dragged her in. Together they picked out three rings. Two were simple matching platinum bands, one was a Tiffany style solitaire diamond on a platinum ring.

He teased her for her simple taste. She quipped back stating it was elegant. They had in-house sizing and once they were happy with the fit they didn't bother taking the rings back off before leaving the store. Afterall, Don and Nora were married months ago.

They ended the day with a trip to a stylist to turn her little boy clipper cut into a properly styled pixie cut. House made an appointment for himself as well. His stylist talked him into a short messy look and topped the new look off with a professional flat-razor shave. Cameron had only seen him cleanly shaven once.

He was practically a different man. She had to admit to herself she preferred his scruff but still she looked forward to getting to know this other face more intimately. He looked like a hot English professor when they were done with him. The kind all the girls in his class want to sleep with.

When they got back to their room, Blythe took a look at them and smirked. She offered to take Greg for a snack and to play some in the lobby.

They were on each other as soon as the door latched. On their shopping spree, he purchased a few dress shirts and a couple pair of slacks that flattered his well-formed ass. She definitely enjoyed him modeling them in front of the dressing room. Now she wanted him back in them so she could do what she'd wanted to do at the store. "Put on your new clothes Don. I want to see the full ensemble so I can take it all back off of you."

"Isn't that my line?" He asked with a wink as he grabbed his shopping bags and headed to the bathroom. "No peeking. And when I come out, I expect you to be in that hot little matching set you picked up from Victoria's Secret. I'm still pissed you didn't' let me come into the dressing room with you to inspect it more thoroughly."

He disappeared into the bathroom and gave her plenty of time to change. When he came out, she was lying on the bed looking like a pin-up girl. Or a very expensive escort ready to pleasure a high paid business executive. He looked good enough to eat. His new blue dress shirt was uncharacteristic pressed. The top button was undone and the sleeves rolled up a couple of turns. She loved the way men's forearms look when they wear their shirts like that. House was no exception. She found his forearms to be extremely sexy.

And his eyes were devouring her. "I think that hairstyle suits you. I missed it dark and with it short I can see and access every inch of your delicious neck. I'll have to be extra careful not to mark you… or not…" She loved the way his eyes danced as he assessed her. Examined her in every detail, as only he could. The growing bulge in his pants told her he liked what he found.

He limped forward and crawled into the bed and over her body. She spread her legs for him to settle between. The first kiss was bizarre. She wasn't sure why. It's not like all the other men in her life had beards. Quite the opposite, but his kisses, both real and imagined had always been accompanied by the friction of facial hair. Now he was so smooth. It was almost as if he wasn't House. Maybe this was how he became Don. The Don he was in Germany. The one she was now married to as far as anyone was concerned.

"I do love you, Don. I'm happy we're doing this. I'm tired of being Allison Cameron. I like being Nora Johnson, wife of the incredibly sexy Don Johnson."

"I love you too. I'm not the type that will say it often, but if you'll have me, I'm yours, Mrs. Johnson."

Their lovemaking was slow and thoughtful. Each took turns worshiping the body of the other. Touching, tasting, exploring in the way that spoke of love and trust. There was no frantic stripping. No getting lost in the primal act. She rolled a condom on him before sitting astride him, guiding him to her entrance she leaned forward and kissed him as she pushed onto him unhurriedly.

They moaned in the other's mouth as he filled her completely. He held her tightly against him and encouraged her to take him with small slow movements. This was more than just getting off. They'd committed fully to one another. They were saying their vows with their whole bodies.

His legs encased hers. One arm wrapped under hers and up into her short hair. His fingers traced her exposed neck with feather light touches. "I love the access this gives me to your neck." He confesses as his lips work their way to the area in question and nibble lightly as to not leave a mark. His face was so smooth. So different from anything real or imagined she'd felt with him. And for the first time, she felt like she was making love to Don and not House. "Fuck, Don…" she sighed, lost in how he felt. How fully he filled her. How tightly, yet gently his whole body embraced her as she wiggled her hips in slow circles to milk him.

He rolled them over and kissed her again. His large body covering hers and spreading her open with longer purpose-filled strokes. Then he pushed in and stopped. His eyes closed as he staved off his peek. It took all her willpower to not wiggle and drive him over the edge. But she knew he wanted to extend this session for as long as he could. So she fought the urge to make him come.

A moment later, his eyes opened and he smiled. "That was close, but I think I'm good to fuck you for a long time now. Roll over." He ordered and raised up to give her room to obey.

As soon as she was on her stomach, he reentered her and began thrusting with longer, stronger strokes. He kissed her cheek, her neck, nipped at her earlobe and whispered "I love your neck. All this new flesh so readily available to my mouth." He sucked then teased. "My little boy turned woman."

"God that's wrong," she moaned, but couldn't deny his perverted teasing turned her on even more. She put her hands under her and stroked herself as he picked up speed.

"Fuck that's hot. Yeah, Nora, I love it when you fuck yourself while I fuck you. Grind that hot little clit against your hands," he encouraged and sucked on the small ridge at the base of her neck. She screamed in pleasure, that spot was one of the most sensitive on her body.

She arched against him as she came. Her inner muscles throbbed around him, milking him and sending him over the edge. "I love you. I promise to always love you." She pledged as he collapsed over her, his cock twitching in time with her, his weight a welcome burden.

* * *

They laid in bed for a while enjoying the afterglow. Then House's stomach broke the silence. Cameron snickered, "I guess that means we should get up and go get dinner."

"We're ordering dinner in. I was thinking pizza. Figure Greg would like that."

"Yeah, way to the heart of any kid is paved with cheese pizza."

"I was wondering — now that you're back to being Mommy and back to being brunette — should we darken his hair? Just for the trip? We could use the temporary stuff that washes out with one or two shampoos."

"Maybe. I mean it's not like two dark haired parents can't make a blond baby. But I guess, if by some stretch someone sees a missing child report with his picture, it would be enough to keep them from putting two and two together down the road… He's always wanted blue hair. We could be the cool parents who let their kid do that."

"When we get to Germany he can have a different color of the rainbow every day if it makes him happy, but we are trying to not draw attention to ourselves. A cute kid with blue hair is going to have folks paying attention."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Think your mom could grab something for us?"

"No need. I have some already."

She looks at him incredulously. He shrugs and tells her with a bit of a lisp, "Girl, you can't just let your roots show. It defeats the whole purpose of dying your hair in the first place."

She chuckles and lays her head back on his chest.

"Besides, I don't bother dying it back home, so I don't like to use anything that lasts more than a few washes. This is just me playing a part. The real Don embraces his grey… 'cause chicks dig it."

"We should probably get dressed and text your mom."

"Five more minutes," he begged.

"Okay," she gave in softly and cuddled closer to him, never really wanting to leave his embrace.

* * *

Greg sat on the toilet lid with a large towel draped over his small naked form. He was not excited about the new requirement for his role and was fidgeting to no end while his mother had to work harder to keep the dye from getting into his eyes. "Come on bub, it's just for a few days, and after that, you can make your hair whatever color you'd like for a week or two. Okay? Like maybe blue, like you asked for a few months ago."

"Daddy says 'only fags color their hair blue.' I don't wanna be a fag." That bothered her, but she said nothing since she wasn't sure how to even begin explaining what "fag" meant. She reminded herself that Greg would forget about it in time and that small minded shit wouldn't find it's way into his new life. Nora and Don would not raise him, or any other children they might ever have, like that. She smiled at the idea of having a baby with Don until Greg asked: "Mommy, what's a fag?"

 _Of course._ She thought. "Well, honey. It can mean a few things. None of which has anything to do with the color of your hair."

"It's a cigarette, at least where we're going." House offers, having just entered the door frame of the bathroom after overhearing the last part of the conversation. "Or a bad word that jerks call men who love other men."

"That doesn't sound nice."

"It's not," Cameron confirms. "Your father wasn't being very nice when he told you that. There's nothing wrong with having blue hair or one man loving another man."

"Jesus says we s'pose to love everybody. Even people who aren't nice to us."

"Well, honey, if people who say they love Jesus actually acted more like him, they probably wouldn't be so mean to people who want blue hair, or call nice men 'fags' just because they love other men."

She looked over at House expecting a comment, but he was holding his wit. "I'm impressed," she told him.

"The reprogramming of his mind doesn't have to happen overnight and he's too young to appreciate sarcasm anyway. I'm learning, in my second life, to save my wit for those who really appreciate it."

"So, we're going on a plane again today," she told Greg. "A really long ride this time. To a place called Germany."

"Germs are bad. They made me sick." He wrinkled his nose, which was still raw from his cold.

House snorted, "Wow. The world history facts I could work into that. Yeah, that's a different thing. Germany has nothing to do with germs, kid. Just Germans. It's where I live. I work there too. After we finish making the movie, you and Mommy are going to stay there with me for a little while. Like a vacation."

Greg perked up at the mention of a vacation. "Do you have Mickey Mouse there?"

"It's not that kind of vacation," House told him.

"Oh," Greg sighed in disappointment.

House seemed bothered by the reaction. But quickly his eyes lit up with an idea. "I have a cat. Do you like cats?"

"Yeah! My Gran-gran has Frank and Molly. I plays with them when I stay with her."

"Well, I have Jerk. He's a big orange tabby that likes to knock all of your pens and paperwork in the floor and step all over your keyboard while your working. He's also pretty fun to play with if you have some string but you have to be careful because he has all his claws."

"You. Have a cat," Cameron states in disbelief as she glances down at her watch to find she only has one more minute to wait for Greg's hair.

"Yeah. Why's that a shock?"

"Well, you never seemed like a pet kind of guy."

"I didn't think I was either. But Jerk decided he was going to be my cat. And after I got to know him, I thought, 'you know, cats really are my kind of animals. They do whatever the hell they want and say "fuck you" if you don't like it.' They plop in your lap, after kicking your stuff around and expect you to pet them and feed them. It's no wonder Wilson kept trying to get one. They're so very Housian."

She gave him a little nod toward Greg at his use of the word 'fuck' and a disapproving look but knew if she made a deal about it Greg would be one hundred times more likely to be saying 'fuck' the rest of the trip than if she said nothing at all. So, she settled for giving House the evil eye and went on. "Yeah. They are. And you named him Jerk?"

"Well, I didn't name him, really, because I wasn't planning on him staying. It's just what I called him all the time and after a while, when he didn't take the hint and leave, it became his name."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him, then ordered her son to the shower and rinsed his hair. It was an interesting change, to say the least, but he did match both of them better now. His blue eyes were the one facial feature that he got from Ray. They normally were much lighter blue but the darker hair had the effect making his eyes seem darker, much more of a match for House's. Since they were using the same color in their hair, his matched House's more so than hers now. So the little cover-up they'd done just to be on the safe side had made him look every bit the both of theirs.

House seemed to take note of it too as he looked to and from the boy to his mother. Cameron wondered for a moment if House had ever imagined having a son with her. Maybe he'd imagined he'd look this way. She wanted to ask him. Maybe later she would.

House broke the long pause in the conversation. "We'll kid. You look good. You ready to get back to work?"

He nodded and House took a few steps in and swept him up. "Alright then, let's get you dressed for bed. We have a really early flight tomorrow and you need your rest."

* * *

They were up at the crack of dawn and House's mother drove them to JFK. She dropped them off curbside and gave her son a big hug, which he returned. She turned to Cameron next, giving her new grandson a pinch of the nose and a peck on the cheek. "You take care of Mommy and Daddy okay?"

He nodded, still half asleep. "And Nora," she looked to Cameron, "take care of my son." She hugged the younger woman and whispered in her ear. "I know what you are doing isn't easy. You'll have days you'll feel guilty and believe you are the worst mother in the world. But you have to do what is best for you and your son. I wasn't brave enough to. Greg, my Greg, Don, deserves something good in his life. If you love him, he will love you fiercely in return. He'll love your son too because it's all he ever wanted from John. Please take care of him."

"I will," Cameron told her, fighting the tears back as they broke the embrace and looked one another in the eye again. "I promise."

"Okay, you two. We're going to have security on us at this airport too if you don't move the car soon. Are we sure we have everything? Bags, tickets, IDs, passports?"

Cameron did a quick inventory. "We're good. You get the chair?"

"Yeah. It'll be here in a couple of minutes. Jack here," House thumbed toward a uniformed man beside him, "is going to check our bags curbside."

"Okay. You can take these two." She pointed to the two larger bags and Jack picked them up. "Well carry the rest," she said and grabbed the small roller bag that had mostly Greg's things which she didn't want to lose because of Stuart being amongst them.

The chair was rolled out a couple of minutes later, this time by a large man who looked like he'd been a linebacker at some point in his life. At least six foot three and built like a brick. He had a low voice and invited 'Mr. Johnson' to have a seat.

"Why don't you let me hold Greg, hon. He's too sleepy to walk and he'll be way too heavy for you to carry the whole way and you'll need to keep all our passports and tickets handy for security."

She nodded and handed House the sleepy boy and felt her heart jump again as House cradled him to his chest and kissed the boy's head. She wished so badly she knew how much of the affection House displayed was him playing the part and how much was his true affection for her son. For now, she would choose to believe it was mostly the latter, if for no other reason than she had to play her part too. She felt just as nervous now because this time she'd have to do more of the talking.

She walked beside House's chair this time, as a wife would. Again, they were fast-tracked through the pre-check line with hardly a second look at their passports at the security check. She had worried when she saw House had used a much younger picture of Greg for his passport. Dating the passport over two years older than hers. But again he was ten steps ahead of her. Greg looked different in the picture and hardly had hair. House knew with an older picture there would be less danger of recognition now or later if their story ever made the national news or social networks.

This time security insisted they all go through body scanners. She was glad there was no reason not to anymore. House limped through first then they woke Greg up long enough to go through. She came through last.

They collected their things without incident. Like in Chicago, another airport employee met House on the other side of security to escort them the rest of the way to their gate. They had far less acting to do, which helped begin to ease Cameron's fears. No one had any desire to give a family with a crippled-veteran dad and small child any hassle.

Greg was more awake since security and was taking in all the sights and sounds of the place. He squealed when they passed a McDonalds. "Mommy! I'm hungry. Can I have a 'Donalds happy meal?"

"Honey, it's breakfast time now. They don't have them for breakfast. We can get you a pancake maybe. Would you like that?"

"Yeah! I love pancakes! You want some'n Don…" he looked mortified with himself after a second. Then tried to recover. "Sorry. I mean Daddy."

Don shrugged, "It's okay. You'll remember next time." then looked up at the young man pushing the chair. "We just got hitched not too long ago. He's still getting used to me being 'Daddy'."

Cameron let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The young man smiled at House then told Greg, "That's cool. I have a stepfather. Mom married him when I was about ten. He's a great guy. I was pretty excited when he decided to officially adopt me. I sometimes forgot and called him by his name at first. It takes a few months to get used to it."

"Well, despite how the story made it sound, Greg's all mine. I was out of the country when he was born. We had a bit of a fling and I didn't know he…"

"Don, hon. You don't need to give the young man all the dirty details of our lives the last four years. Would you like something to eat or not?" Cameron asked, her hands finding her hips.

"Yeah, get me one of those egg muffin things with pancakes and a hashbrown and coffee, you know how I like it. Here take my wallet. I have a bunch of cash," he offered. Knowing that she still had no cards or credit in her new name. He didn't have time to do everything he would have liked to. She nodded and took his offering and left the group to get in the breakfast line.

Of course, as she started walking away he continued to tell their story to the attendant. "So, we worked together for a long time. Kind of always had this flirting thing. But I was into someone else and she was so much younger. At the time, I thought she'd be better off with this other guy who was her age that really liked her. After they didn't work out, she left. But we sort of had this fling before she left town. Then not long after I moved to Germany. Neither of us thought it was going anywhere more than some hot sweaty what-might-have-been" he covered Greg's ears with both hands and spelled out "s e x." This cause the young attendant to chuckle and Greg to squirm.

Cameron glanced over when she heard this. House released Greg's ears and got twin Cameron death glares for different reasons. He chuckled and continued. Cameron sighed and continued on to the line for McDonald's still listening in to House's story. "I found out about Greg, through Facebook. Did the math. Started talking to her again. Turns out neither of us was happy. So I guess I figured out that I was stupid all these years for letting her get away and I wanted, if nothing else, to get to meet Greg, and be a part of his life."

He continued talking after she was out of earshot. She wished the story were true. It was far more romantic than her real life. It was something she'd thought about once or twice. Just showing up on his doorstep after she left. Kissing him. Taking his hand. Leading him to his bed. Just to have him, so she could know. He more than likely wouldn't have turned down the free sex. But for her, it would have come with too much baggage, at least that's what she told herself at the time. Now she thinks maybe their lives could have been less tragic maybe. But she couldn't go back in time.

The line moved quickly and she was back with food in about ten minutes. They grabbed a table in the shared food court seating and ate quickly. The attendant hurried them along when they began to get a little too close to the loading time. He took out his phone as they finished and call for a cart. The electric cart was at their table a moment later and they all piled on. Greg sat between them and giggled as they sped past the walking travelers.

Cameron and House smiled at one another as they settled on the plane, starting to feel some relief from the stress of getting past security. Of course, they still had to get past customs in Munich but Don had dual citizenship at this point, so he was confident that getting his new wife and son into the country would be easy.

The parts after that would be harder.

Beyond all the moral questions that nagged at the back of her mind, the question of what her life would become suddenly began to weigh on her mind. This whole thing was exciting, but it was also rash. Now that it seemed they were going to make she realized she had no clue what really lay ahead for her life. All she could do was continue to trust that the man who always thought of everything had thought about that too.

So many details were in the air. What would Cameron do for work as Nora Johnson? They'd been so busy planning the escape, they hadn't even broached the subject. She knew he'd gotten lucky with the lab gig. He knew the guy in charge from his past life. He didn't need to maintain a license to work in a lab. The fake degree was all they required since he wasn't a practicing physician. She wasn't sure if his boss could help her in a similar way or not. Her specialty would most likely land her in a different department. He may or may not have enough pull to help. She hadn't had time to acquire a fake degree and she was young enough that a hiring manager might want to call a reference or two.

She still had no desire to sit around home and be a housewife, despite the truth of the pun. She was a driven as House was. One big difference between he and Ray was she couldn't imagine that House wanted that from her and just knowing that made her feel more at ease. House wouldn't have dragged her this far without having some kind of plan and even if he had, he wouldn't be the man she loved if he couldn't think his way past it.

So, as she has always done, she placed her full faith in the man she once knew as Gregory House. As they settled into their flight and began to pass over the Atlantic, she trusted he'd already made a plan with contingencies. Because there was no going back now. She had become Nora Johnson, for better or for worse.

Allison Cameron was nothing more than a ghost from her past and she decided she was okay with that no matter what lay ahead for her and the two people she loved most in the world.

* * *

 **AN:** _This brings us to the end and the beginning. Hope you enjoyed my story. I know the ending is very open ended, but I wanted to leave room for everyone to imagine how their new lives will be. I'm not sure that canon Cameron would do this but I enjoyed writing her with a bit of a twist. I wasn't sure how this would be received and I am happy everyone was willing to play along for the sake of fanfiction. :) For those of you in the U.S., I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving._

 _Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing!_

 _And continued thanks to atavares. Despite the fact our schedules are at odds of late making it hard to find time to work or play together, I still feel like I couldn't do these things nearly so well without you._


	24. Optional: Perfect Authentic Cadence

_**A Note for My Readers:**_

 _For those who wanted an ending with a bow, I was compelled by your kind reviews to cave in. If you were perfectly happy with the open ending, I invite you to overt your eyes and 'run away, run away.' But for those of you who despise a lack of a perfect authentic cadence, I have added a coda for you that I hope you'll find more satisfying. I am, at the end of the day, a sucker for happy Hameron as much as anyone. So, if you are so inclined, read on._

 _Thank you, atavares, for your fine eyes overlooking my work! Especially these days that we are so much more disconnected. I really do appreciate your time and support!_

* * *

 **Epilogue (Sort of)**

They'd been traveling for nearly a full day by the time they pulled into the garage of Don Johnson's home. Thanks to the time change, however, it was mid-afternoon. His home was a quaint modern cottage at the end of a cul de sac in the village of Villip, which was just outside of Bonn. Greg was sleeping hard within minutes of being strapped into the car and didn't even budge when Allison turned to tell him to wake up.

"Let him sleep. We can take the luggage in and you can come back and take him up to bed. He's probably going to be jet lagged for a few days. I always just push through 'till at least nine or ten and it really doesn't hurt so bad the next day. If you decide to nap, you're fucked." House told her as they exited the car and grab their luggage from the boot.

"So this is it," House announced as they entered. "It's a family neighborhood. Richard hook me up with the place before I moved here or I probably would have never picked it for myself. But one of his former employees got a better job and I basically took both his job and his house. I've been renting it since. I guess I was too lazy to find someplace closer to work. And honestly, it's an easy drive. Half an hour on the worst days. Most the time I can make it in under twenty on my bike."

"It's nice," Cameron smiled as she finally let herself breath. They made it and for the first time in weeks she relaxed. She walked to the far wall, past a small open kitchen, to an open living area with a small couch and two walls covered by large bays of windows. They looked out on a field behind the home. A couple of homes flanked the far end of the field. A couple of kids were chasing one another in heavy jackets. She smiled and looked up at House as he stepped up beside her. "I'll go get Greg out of the car. Poor kid. He's completely zonked."

"There are two bedrooms upstairs. I got a bunk bed for him and put it in the room on the left. It's a little bigger and has a view of the field. But he can decide tomorrow if he'd rather have the other room. It's got the guest bed now, but Gretchen can help us switch it up he'd like. The master is on the main floor. Just down that hall," he points and grabs the handle of her roller suitcase. "I'll take our stuff back. You tuck in the kid then come fuck me in." With a wink, he heads down the hall and Allison turns back toward the garage to retrieve her son.

A few minutes later, she'd carried the sleepy boy upstairs and tucked him into his new bed. Pushing his hair aside, she hoped he'd like it here. There was a strong change in a few days there would begin a series of meltdowns before true acceptance would come. Hopefully, she and House could find enough to distract him for long enough for his memories of his old life to fade.

She planted a kiss on his forehead and headed downstairs to find her _Don_. It was interesting just how easy it was to now first think Don and how quickly she was already reacting to the name Nora and even more surprising Mrs. Johnson.

Missus. Huh. A change from Doctor which was harder to deal with than the loss of Cameron. She'd not wanted to broach real-life on the trip. It was far easier to play the role but now… Well now she was going to — "Fuck your cock is so goddamn sexy," her mouth involuntarily interrupted her thoughts when she entered her new master bedroom to find her husband stroking said cock while lying butt naked in the center of a large bed, wearing nothing but a wicked grin.

"Come here and ride it," he ordered. She was undressing before the words were out of his mouth, closing and locking the door behind her. The room was chiller than she realized and she jogged the small distance to the bed and quite literally jumped him.

Sinking down on him with a satisfied hum, she remembered, "Oh, hey, we totally missed the turning of the year because of flying forward in time. Happy New Year, Don."

His head was thrown back from her first swift stroke, but he looked up and replied to her "It is now. I want to ring in every new year from now on inside your hot little pussy. You make me so hard I hurt, Nora."

"I've been aching to fuck you for as long as I can remember. Feel how wet you make me?" She was already dripping down his balls and they'd barely started. He answered her with a low hum and laid back as she began to ride him. She was so tired she was practically in a trance fueled by instinct. He filled her. It was perfect. No man had ever felt this right beneath her. When his thumb found her clit, she shrieked in response then moaned and ground against him.

She was completely lost in sensation as he sat up and pulled her to him. Grabbing her ass and nibbling at the long tendon on the right side of her neck, he began to rock more frantically with her. His words filtered into her consciousness slowly. "Nora, baby, I'm so close… I want to come inside you. If you don't want it then…" she kissed him and rocked harder. Her logical mind was lost to insufficient sleep and endorphins. She wanted all of him in that moment and didn't give a damn about the consequences. She was lost in his touch, his scent, his kisses, the feel of his cock exploding inside her and the way their sexes throbbed in time.

Their goal of pushing through and avoiding jet lag was screwed. Literally. They were asleep as quickly as they laid back. She still on top of him with him still inside her.

* * *

She woke up in the middle of the night to voices in the next room. Rolling over she saw it was just around midnight. "Great," she muttered to herself, having slept the whole afternoon and evening away.

Rolling out of bed, she became aware of the more sticky than normal feeling between her legs. Her hand found her head. "Oh shit."

Oh, shit, indeed and yet, a smile crept up to the corner of her mouth as she remembered how sexy it had been to let him. God, she had it bad. And still, no idea about what it was she was to become here. At the rate she was going, it seemed constantly pregnant Housewife (yes she meant the pun) seemed the likeliest answer.

Sighing, she rose and entered the adjoining bath to take a quick shower.

Ten minutes later, she was dressed in her flannel pants and one of Don's sweatshirts and heading out to the great room.

 _Don_ was there with Greg, milling through his cabinets, discussing the differences between Froot Loops in Germany versus the U.S. "Yeah, they don't have all the cool colors because the man has them down. Too many chemicals for the Germans, but they're _seriously_ worth the risk. On the upside, these have more sugar to counterbalance the _healthy_ stuff."

"I dunno, Daddy, dey kinda taste like the chalk at preschool."

Cameron stopped at that. Seemed Greg was still in character. Suddenly, she felt a twinge of guilt. While Greg, House and she were here playing house, Greg's real father would have to know by now that his son was missing.

House turned just then, with a different box of cereal that she didn't recognize and made eye contact. "I don't really want to know why you know how the preschool chalk tastes. This is the only other cereal we have. We can go out tomorrow and get something else if you don't like it." He placed the box with a strange graphic of a pink tornado down on his counter and passed it to Greg. The boy grabbed the box and began pouring it over the other cereal in his bowl.

"You know, he's still a little young to serve himself processed sugar at will. I usually just use that stuff as a topping for the healthy cereal or as a treat."

"What? German Froot Loops have spinach in them." He rolled his whole head and gave her an exaggerated 'duh' face. She crossed her arms incredulously. "Seriously, they grind it up to make food coloring and stuff." He states sarcastically with a wink.

She suddenly felt on the edge of a breakdown and he saw it in her pleading look. "Alright, so not the time for jokes. Greg, I guess we'll let mommy pick the cereal tomorrow. You want some scrambled eggs? Toast? Or not breakfast at all. I mean it is the middle of the night."

"Can you make grilled cheese?"

"Yes, but I don't think I have the stuff for that. Peanut butter sandwich?"

"Um… sure."

"Mommy?" House asks, looking up again at Cameron.

"Yeah, that's fine."

He nods. "So two of them."

Cameron sighed and walked up to the bar, leaning against it next to her son. "No, I meant… I thought you were asking if it was okay for him to eat."

"Right. I did look up his medical records. I know he doesn't have a nut allergy. Look if you've got a list of things I shouldn't feed him…"

"No. It's not… look it's fine if he wants to eat that cereal once in a while. I'm… I'm just… Don can we talk for a minute." She motioned with her head to the far side of the living area where she could watch Greg but he wouldn't understand their conversation.

House nodded and they left Greg to his cereal. She lead him to the far corner, in front of the two bays of windows, which were now covered in heavy dark curtains. In a low voice, she confessed, "I think I'm starting to freak out a little."

"I can see that. My observation skills didn't die with House any more than I did."

She gave him a wry look and exhaled as she leaned back against the curtains. "Everything's starting to hit me about the rest of our lives here."

"Okay. So first off, the thing we did earlier, with the sex and the coming inside you… I think we were both a little high on our successful escape and lack of sleep. I know a local pharmacist. I can call him now and get the morning after pill and we can punt that."

"You know I hate sports metaphors. Do you want to ' _punt_ it.'"

"I'd rather punt before than after I find out that you're leaving me and there really is a football in your stadium."

"I'm not leaving you."

"You say that, but your body language says it could be a lie. You worried about Greg? Ray?"

"Yes and yes. And I'm worried about me. I was so ready to leave my shitty life behind and now I don't know what it is I'm supposed to do now that I have."

House cracked a wicked smile. "Well, that's easy. You're doing me."

His joke went over like a lead balloon. He placed his arms around her and pulled her into his chest for a hug, kissing her on her brunette crown. "Oh, come on Nora, you left the door too wide for me not to walk through on that. I have an addiction to sarcasm, it can't be helped. I have the therapy bills to prove it."

She gave him nothing but silence as she wondered if her faith had been misplaced.

"Alright. I'm…" he pushed her back and leaned down to force her to look him in the eyes. "Look, it's going to be fine. I didn't have time to get all the details in place before I got you out of the country, but I do have a plan. You know me. I can't not overthink a thing. Come sit down, I'll explain and in a few days when you're settled in, we'll start making it all work."

They sat on the couch. She wouldn't look at him. If she did, she knew she'd cry. She was over crying and now wasn't the time for second thoughts. He gave her space, sitting beside her but at arm's length and began to fill her in.

"So, it's not going to be so easy if you want to continue to practice real medicine. I know you. I know you'll want to. But just for the sake of giving you all the options, you should know that finding a lab job is going to be about a million times easier and has way less shit that could go wrong. However, Richard and I think we could find someone to help you get the local experience you need to make it easier to find something that won't bore you to tears down the road."

"Okay. So what exactly does that mean."

"Well, first it means your sucky German is a real problem. So, starting Monday, you and Greg will be having daily sessions with Gretchen."

"You mentioned her before… with the bed. I thought you were talking about having a house cleaner or something like that."

He chuckled as if the idea were funny to him. Cameron gave him a questioning look. "She used to teach English and French part-time at the University. I met her when she volunteered for one of our clinical studies. Read her address and found out she lived a few doors down at another house that Jerk likes to frequent. We started complaining about that damned cat while I was giving her a physical. She agreed on the name with me. Anyway, I guess she's sort of a friend and keeps an eye on the place when I go back to the states and takes care of Jerk. She definitely wouldn't be caught dead washing my dirty underwear. She just understands IKEA better than I do and likes putting things together."

Cameron smiled and he continued. "Anyway, she helped me get the place ready to bring you here and she's going to help you learn German because, and I quote" he put on a German accent, "'they deserve a teacher who's not going to make them feel like scheiße about their progress.'"

Cameron cracked a smile at that. "Ja, das tun wir," she replied, somehow scrounging up a few words of German from the recesses of her memory, but couldn't be sure if she'd pronounced them quite right. " _If only he'd picked Spain or France to live in,"_ she thought.

"Yeah, I can't work with that accent and keep a straight face." He teased back. "Look, I've heard you speak Spanish, so I know you have the capacity for languages. I seem to recall your resume listing French as well, but we didn't exactly have a use for it in Princeton."

"Yeah, I actually have more years of French from school, but I had to speak Spanish a few times a day after I transferred to the E.R. so I speak it pretty fluently now. My French is all textbook, but I'd at least be able to communicate right away while I worked on my diction. I know tourist German, but I'd be hard-pressed to do more than find the train station or a water closet."

"Well, as you might imagine, the Germans care if their doctors can speak their native tongue. You can't even get an unpaid internship until your German is as good as your Spanish. They also aren't fond of medical practitioners with degrees from most foreign schools, so once we figure out how to fake yours, you're going to have to go back into training for a few years. If you weren't one of my doctors, you'd probably have to go back to medical school too, but I know you'll pass the equivalency exam once you figure out German. _If_ starting over is really what you want to do."

"Okay. So I'm looking at a few years of what amounts to clinic duty before I might even be able to get a real job in a clinic, much less a job like the one I left."

"That's the size of it. Or you can come work with us in the lab next fall. Richard has one guy retiring and two that are most likely going on sabbatical. I know it's not your specialty, but not everyone on our team is an infectious disease expert. Having an immunologist would complement the team. Richard's never going to call your references and, despite the lack of personal interaction that you love so much, we're less boring than going back to being an intern."

"Okay. You make both options sound so amazing, I don't know how I'll ever choose," she answered with a hint of sarcasm.

"Look, I know it's not ideal. But that gives you about eight months to get your German together and that's a lot of time for us to figure out all the angles. Maybe find some _other means_ of getting your paperwork in order. And," he looked back to the bar, where Greg was finishing his cereal, "it gives you the time you'll need to get Greg through this. He's going to need you once he starts figuring out he's not going back to Ray. And he's going to have to learn the language too, but chances are he'll be more fluent in eight months than you. He's at the perfect age to pick up multiple languages."

"Yeah. He was picking up some Spanish from T.V. and preschool."

"Well, he's going to be around a bunch of polyglots the rest of his life so I'm sure he'll join the party. In three years I doubt anyone will be able to tell his first language wasn't German."

"I know you're going to need someone to talk to about things and I know that I'm probably the worst person in the world for you to be stuck having to talk to about those things. I have a shrink here. I asked him to meet with you and recommend someone. He knows most of my story without knowing the real story. Probably better to keep it that way. But you'd be surprised how much confessing the almost-truth can help."

"It's so strange. You as Don. The same, but not the same at all."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"It is." She started to lean in to kiss him, but found a little boy crawling between them instead. "Well, get used to that."

"Maybe Gretchen would like to double as a language tutor and nanny until we find a real one. Speaking of which, there are nanny services and a good kindergarten here. I looked into that too, for when we figure out everything."

"Thanks, Don. I think I just needed to know… No one else has ever really bothered caring that much about me."

"Who fixes the fixer when she breaks?"

"Yeah."

Greg thrust his arms around her neck. "I care 'bout you, Mommy. What's broken? I'll help fix it."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Oh, baby, I didn't mean you. I know you love me and don't worry about fixing Mommy, she's not broken anymore. So do you like it here?"

He sat back and shrugged his shoulders giving her a surprisingly cute, but accurate assessment of his time in Germany so far. "I dunno. I just woke up."

"Good point," she agreed and reworked her angle. "So if we stayed here, with Don as your daddy for a while, would you like that?"

"Yeah. It's fun to be in the play!" He answered enthusiastically.

"What if Mommy told you it wasn't really a play? That sometimes someone's first dad has to go away, and sometimes, when that happens they get lucky and get a second dad who loves them just as much. Your father can't be with you anymore but Don would like to help you and step in and be your new dad."

His tiny brow furrowed for a moment as if he was considering something more than just her question. "So you got married and now I'm going to live with you all the time?" There was something to the way he said that which turned Cameron's stomach. House picked up on it too.

"So, kid, what exactly do you mean?" House asked and Greg turned to reply.

"Daddy told me that sometimes when a parent dies or when parents don't live together and one of them gets married, a kid can get a new mommy or daddy. He said I if that 'appens kids have t' be strong and love their new parent even if they misses their real mommy or daddy."

House looked up to Cameron and raised an eyebrow, then looked back to the boy. "When did he tell you that?"

Greg took a breath and explained. "Chris got a new daddy for Christmas 'cause 'is mommy got married. 'Is other daddy had t'go live with Jesus. Chris said Jesus sent 'im a new daddy."

Cameron looked up at House and filled in some detail, "Chris is a kid in his Sunday School class. His dad was killed in a car crash a little over a year ago."

House grinned ear to ear. She knew he couldn't help it and that his joy had nothing to do with the man dying. It was the perfect door. Despite Cameron's suspicions that Ray's explanation was in part a way to prep Greg for his own marriage and final break from her, she still didn't have the wear-with-all to fashion the right lie to her son. House's look, however, clearly stated had no moral conundrum in building their story on Ray's well-laid foundation.

House saw Cameron's hesitation. After a moment, she nodded her blessing and he didn't hesitate. "Your father's right. He wanted you to know that if he couldn't be with you anymore that your Mommy would make sure you have someone to be your Daddy even if he can't be anymore. It's not that he didn't want to be. He loves you very much, but sometimes things happen, like with Chris. Daddy's sometimes can't be with their sons. But that doesn't mean you can't have another Dad."

"Did Daddy havta go live with Jesus?"

"Afraid so, kid. I wanted to marry your mommy and become your new dad. So that's why we had to go to Germany, because I live here and now you and Mommy do too. We didn't want you to be sad on the trip, so we told you a fib about the play and pretended to be pretending… if that makes sense. But it's okay if you get sad now. We know you are going to miss your dad, and that you have to get to know me better before you feel like I'm really your dad now."

Greg seemed to take the news in stride, though he hugged his Stuart just a little tighter to his chest. Then again, what three-year-old understands what it truly means when someone is gone forever. Cameron knew in the days to come Greg would begin to miss Ray. She also knew that in a few months his memories of the man would start to fade. At least it wasn't her that would fade completely from his memory.

* * *

 **Two years later. December, 31st 2017, 11:59 p.m.**

"I've never done the countdown on a cock before."

"Well, I've never done it with a pregnant chick on my cock before. Ohh, here we go…"

Don grabbed the remote and unmuted the T.V. mounted on the wall at the foot of their bed. "Zehn, neun, acht…" as they counted down in unison with the program, Nora lowered herself slowly over Don's penis, Don snickering when they got to "sechs" because it sounded like "sex" in English. Finally, as the year turned to 2018, Nora was sitting fully on him and breathed a sexy "Happy New Year, Don."

She leaned down to kiss him and he had to bend up to meet her around her larger than normal belly. "Happy New Year, Nora." He turned off the T.V. and focused his attention solely on his wife.

After two years together, they'd stopped thinking of House and Cameron. It was hard the first year and there were times Nora had wondered if she'd jumped from the pan to the fire, but through it all Don loved her in his fierce and unyielding way. Getting a practicing license turned out to be more of a mountain then she wanted to climb, so she took the job on Richard's team. Working with Don in that setting was very different that working with House. It was enjoyable to see him solving puzzles again but the lab wasn't for her.

Again, Richard came to the rescue and helped her get a teaching job in the biology department. The timing was perfect. She found out she was pregnant her first week on the new job after running from a morning lecture to the bathroom twice in a day. They seemed to be compelled to have unprotected sex, yet somehow it took more than a year for her to, as Don like to put it "get knocked up." Afterward, she remarked on the luck of their timing. Now their fetus would not be exposed to whatever crazy thing they were trying to cure or treat in the lab.

But more than that, she loved teaching. It was like the final piece of her life fell into place and for the first time in her adult life, she found she was truly happy.

Her drinking problem cropped up from time to time, but with the baby came the reason to finally win out over the last lingering effect from her old life. The last piece of Allison Cameron was gone and Nora was glad of it.

Greg was excited that he was going to have a little sister. He was ready to be a big brother. It was an up and down transition for him, but much like everyone had thought, after a year he barely remembered having a father other than Don. He picked up on German quickly, even more so after they enrolled him a local kindergarten after Nora started work. He made many friends there.

His best friend lived two blocks away and he spent nearly as much time at his friend's home as his own. In fact, he was spending the night there tonight, which suited Don and Nora just fine. Don had meant it when he said he wanted to be inside her to ring in every New Year, even though both of them knew the odds of that happening were rather low, it still was worth the try.

Nora regarded the man beneath her as she rocked. To her, he was still so sexy… " _And hard. He is always still so fucking hard,_ " she thought as she made love to him. His hands roamed over her swollen abdomen and he smiled as he grabbed onto her and flipped her with an agileness that still surprised her. After a little repositioning, he had her on all fours and he took her from behind in a slow, hot stroke. "You are so fucking sexy this way," he declared with staggered breath. "So fucking round and fuckable. God, I love your pussy. I hope our daughter doesn't break it on her way out," he teased her.

He was excited about the birth of their daughter in a way she'd never expected of him. He told her early on that he'd hated being an only child and moving all the time. He didn't want that for Greg. It made her love him so much more than she knew was possible when she realized he'd begun to truly love her son as his own and that he wanted a family for them. Now that he would have a biological child, she was excited for them in a way she wished she could have been for her and Ray. Then again, she didn't love Ray and she didn't create her second child by accident.

"Don't worry. My pussy's very flexible."

"Fuck yeah it is." He reached around and started stroking her clit and she came hard. He followed quickly and fell to his left side, pulling her on top of him as he turned on his back. "Love you," he murmured as his hand roamed back to her belly. "Love you too. Sorry if I'm traumatizing you, but your mom is so sexy I can't help it."

"Are you talking to the fetus again?" She teased.

His lips stifled a smile before he looked at her with a fake seriousness. "I am. But in my defense, it's my fetus, so I am sure its cognitive skills are far more advanced than the standard fetus."

"We need to settle in on a name for our fetus," Nora reminded him.

Don snuggled into her and nuzzled her neck as he confessed, "I was thinking it might be cool to call her Allison."

"Or weird," she laughed.

He pulled back and raise an eyebrow, "One does not negate the other."

"I guess," she laughed then had an idea she was sure he'd enjoy. "How about Allison Lenora Johnson. That would make the kids kinda symmetrical."

"Now you're talking." He nodded.

"Do you think it'll cause Greg to remember more than we'd like or tell people how that used to be my name?"

"Dunno. Probably not. It's not like he called you Allison. He barely remembers anything from before, much less your old name. Besides, she'll be Ally most the time." His focused back on Nora's belly again. "I like it. What do you think, Ally?" He directed the question to her stomach and began to feel around.

"She's not going to just kick on cue like we're in a book or something," Nora chided, rolling her eyes at Don's playful attempts to get a kick from their daughter.

"Oh ye of little faith. She's generally feisty after we have sex." His hand found the baby's foot and he gave it a little press and on cue she gave him a small kick.

"You cheated," Nora smiled.

"Pays to be a doctor sometimes," he returned her smile and kissed his wife wrapping her in his arms as they began a new year, in their second lives, together.


End file.
